Learning to Tango
by Twisted Flame
Summary: Time has already run out for one of the group and it's now ticking against Chris. Will he be able to still save his brother as a sinister plot is hatched against not only Wyatt, but the rest of his friends as well?
1. Chapter 1

**DISCLAIMER: - I own Charmed. I own everything this side of the equator... Ok, now that's over someone's gonna force down my anti-liar medication so I shall see you soon... Hopefully.**

**Here it is, the sequel so long promised to Bidding Begins. I hope you enjoy this as much as you did BB, although I get the feeling that this part will have lots more twists and turns along the way than the last one… Lol, anyways on with the fic, yes?**

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**_Note from the Beta_****_: Just realized while editing this chapter that, heh, Bridget wouldn't be that big at the beginning of her second trimester. So please ignore the 'swelling of her stomach' at the end of BB. She's now just a teensy bit pudgy._**

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**And on we go, the 3rd part of the Meant to Live Trilogy… This is the last part, and I haven't even finished the first part yet… Hm… Anyways:**

* * *

**Learning to Tango**

* * *

"Shit… What the fuck did you do to me? TELL ME!" Bridget was breathing heavily, shock making her shake. She was _three months pregnant. _Three months gone… "Take it back! Take this… _thing _back!"

"Don't you want it? Don't you want your little baby?"

"You're SICK! It's not my baby! I hate you… just… I hate you…" The Hunter put her face in her hands. She couldn't _deal _with this, she couldn't be pregnant, and she didn't know _how _to be a Mom: she didn't _want_ to be a Mom…

"But you'll have a beautiful baby…"

"I don't want a baby!" Bridget screamed, tears stinging in her eyes, "Take it back… Oh, God, please… Just take it back…"

"Why would I want to do that?"

Bridget looked at the smirking demon before the tears that threatened finally fell, "Just… just fuck off and die…" She turned away from Morca and sat on the stone floor, sobs wracking her body.

"Stress isn't good for your child."

"And what would you know about motherhood?" She rolled over, forcing herself to get over the shock and gritting her teeth, venomous hatred radiating from her and her eyes lustrous in a way that her friends knew meant death to any evil in the vicinity. "Maybe I want to bring up my child with demon-slaying abilities."

She stepped through the bars of the blasted cage, taking slow deliberate steps, her mouth a thin line. Suddenly, she jumped and flipped, but the momentum was amazing, carrying her forward to land right behind the demon.

"Then let's teach this baby something, right?" She cocked her head to one side, "Maybe it wasn't such a good idea to let me out of the cage," She added in a whisper, leaping forward again and punching him in the face so hard he fell to the floor. "You think my witch friends hurt you? They are nothing, _nothing_ to what I am going to do to you,"

He scrambled to his feet, alarm evident in his hideous eyes, but he still remained calm and collected; cold and calculating. " You'll hurt the child…"

"I'm quite sure that it's safely wrapped up in there," Bridget jumped and snapped two kicks at the demon's jaw. She winced in pain as the sudden movement clenched her stomach.

"Look what you're doing! Stop now, while you still can!"

"Where I come from scum like you rule. Poor kid's gonna have to be tough to survive, might as well get used to it now," She back handed him across the face, walking forward and stepping over him to grab a bar from her cage, twisting it until it broke.

With a harsh cry, she raised it over his abdomen and began hitting him. Her hands started to bleed from the rust, but she kept on, blood running down her wrists. Eventually, he shimmered out.

"Don't," He commanded, shimmering in behind her and grabbing her so her arms were pinned to the side.

"You have no right to touch me!" She shrieked, struggling and managing to flip him forward into the altar, which was obliterated in a cloud of rock dust. She walked back over to him, her face hard and set for the kill.

"Think of your child…" He pleaded for the last time, "Think of how you're hurting him…"

"Him? Well I guess that makes picking names easier…" She placed her hand on his forehead, "Don't feel sad that I won't name him after _you_,"

On 'you' she twisted her hand violently and with a loud _snap _Morca fell dead. Staring at the corpse for a moment, her hard mask melted into one of worry as she sat down on a large rock, staring at the ceiling. "Now come on Chris, get your ass healed and then get down here to rescue me."

* * *

"C'mon, Leo…" Ben mumbled, feeling the fingers holding his side together grow colder by the second, "Chris? Chris!" The half-whitelighter groaned slightly but didn't answer, "Talk to me, don't give up, you're Dad's coming…" Ben really wished that was true, he didn't think there was much more blood left in his body…

But Chris was looking feverish and pale. He was shaking slightly and his lips were turning blue. A permanent look of agony was etched on his face. The poison was really working…

"Leo?" Ben tried again, sounding weaker. "Chris needs you… Stop thinking about yourself for once…" He coughed slightly and blood dribbled from the corner of his mouth. He wiped it away with the back of his hand, feeling sure he had smeared it across his face.

He shifted towards Chris, his cold fingers fumbling on the knots of the tourniquet he'd made using a strip of his shirt above Chris's wound to try and stop the poison flowing. It was getting later and later in the night and with the streetlamp out it was getting increasingly unlikely that anyone would spot them.

Ben took a deep breath and yelled out, "LEOOOOOOOOOO!"

* * *

The ruined conservatory swam around Paige as she fought to stay conscious. The nausea from her blow to the head had long passed and she had thrown up twice, but she had to swim against the current on oncoming black to stay awake. She pinched herself hard on the arm, where several red marks showed she had been doing that often, and the conservatory came back into focus somewhat.

Around her shards of glass and splinters of wood lay discarded on the floor, and china and soil and leaves from smashed plant plots littered the floor as well as shredded cushions and snapped pieces of wicker.

The half-whitelighter was quite sure she had broken some of her ribs, if not all, and her collarbone. Pain burned like white fire down her chest and every time she breathed or moved. Phoebe was in the sitting room, lying with pieces of the splintered door lying around her in the sitting room. She didn't know where Piper or Nixa were, just that they hadn't been here when they had orbed in, only Morca… He had attacked hard and fast and then shimmered out. She didn't know where he had gone.

"Le-L-Leo," She managed to croak out, barely able to suck the air into her lungs for the pain. When no orbing happened she held out her hand, "Phone," She called. But as the cordless orbed into her hand, the effort allowed the current to sweep her away into a sea of black.

* * *

"Chris? Shit…" Ben's now-numb fingers scrabbled clumsily for a pulse on his friend's neck. The flesh was barely warmer than his fingers and a weak flutter was all the betrayed the fact that Chris was living. "Chris? You still with us?"

Ben couldn't even see his friend's chest rise and fall anymore, but then Ben was having trouble seeing much of anything anymore, the world seemed blurred at the edges.

In the midst of one of the blurs came a faint twinkle, and when Ben turned his head orbing lights were fading and forming a man. "Leo… Thank God…"

Relief overwhelmed him and his arms refused to hold him up anymore. By the time his face hit the cold, rough asphalt he wasn't conscous to feel it.

* * *

"Oh my God…" Ben breathed, picking his way over the shattered remains of furniture littering the conservatory. At least three of the windows were smashed in, one of the doors ripped off its hinges, and broken picture frames littered the already messy floor, the display case toppled over.

"Where is everyone?" Chris asked, still rotating his newly healed arm.

"Paige…" Leo said quietly, pointing to her slumped form. He immediately crouched next to her and began to heal her.

"Leo…" Ben said slowly, seeing a pale and cut leg in the sitting room, sticking out of some debris, obviously still attached to a body. Leo didn't look round; he was too busy trying to heal Paige.

Chris whipped his head around, searching. "Where's Mom?"

Ben stepped towards the sitting room, "Leo… Phoebe's gonna need some help…" He bent down next to her and felt her cheek. It was cold, "If she can be helped," He added in a whisper, moving his hand to her face to close her eyes. Suddenly she let out a small groan and Ben yelped with surprise.

"What is it, what's the matter?"

"I thought… I thought she was dead," Ben said, getting over the shock and standing up, "She's not, by the way," He added to Chris, seeing his panicked expression as Leo's hands lit up and covered Phoebe in a golden glow. Sometime in the middle of the healing Paige got up and joined the small crowd beside her sister.

"Is she going to be ok?" She asked, pushing hair out of her face.

"I think so…" Leo murmured, still concentrating.

"Oh…" Phoebe said, sitting up slowly, "Hey guys."

"Are you ok now?" Paige asked worriedly.

"Yeah, I'm fine… Did you find Piper?"

"Uh… Guys… Mom's in trouble…" Chris said, panic filling his voice. They all looked towards Chris whose arm was rapidly vanishing before their eyes.

"You're… Chris, you're disappearing! Why are you vanishing? This is not good, this is-"

"Mom…" Chris whispered, watching the invisibility spread across his chest, "We've got to find her. Can you sense her?"

"It's… faint…" Leo said, concentrating hard, "She should be here… In the sunroom…"

"But she's not…" Paige began, not wanting to finish.

"Not yet," Leo said grimly, "But she should be here… And alive…" He looked utterly perplexed for a minute, before going around the room kicking broken furniture out of the way, "Help me then!"

"Piper? Piper sweetie? Can you hear me?" Phoebe called, standing next to Leo, "Piper, if you can he-" She jumped as a psychic shot hit her, "The window," She said shortly, coming out of her vision.

They all ran over to one of the broken windows and looked out. Glinting amongst the grass was several shards of coloured glass and, in a broken and flattened bush, lay the oldest Charmed One, blood leaking from her mouth and nose.

"Mom!" Chris called, but it came out as a faint whisper. They turned back to him, seeing that he was translucent and fading fast.

"Leo, hurry up!" The whitelighter jumped out of the window, snagging his shirt on the glass and falling. He got up quickly and ran over to his wife, holding her hand.

"Hurry!" Paige pleaded, seeing Chris's legs vanish completely.

"Yeah, Leo, you might wanna get some healing done," Chris said, sounding panicky as most of him succumbed to nothingness.

The golden light burst forth from Leo's hands and the blood on Piper's face faded. The cuts marring her skin smoothed back into her usual complexion and a faint flush of red returned to her cheeks. Chris breathed a sigh of relief as he realized that he was being redrawn as his mother was healed. Finally he was filled in completely and found himself completely corporal again.

"That is not an experience I'd like to repeat," He said shakily, exhaling deeply. Piper sat up slowly and put her hand to her head.

"I've been sitting in this damn prickly bush for ages, Leo…" The whitelighter apologetically picked thorns, twigs and leaves from her hair and she scowled at him.

"Piper, I'm sorry…" Ben tuned the conversation out; he still couldn't find Nixa. He walked back away from the window and out of the conservatory, through into the dining room. It was darkness so he flipped the light switch. Almost immediately he spotted the pale and cut arm protruding from under the table.

"Nixa!" He yelled, dropping to his knees and skidding on the floor. He felt her arm and it was like marble, "No, no, no…" Both Phoebe and Chris had been cold, though… Leo had brought them back… "C'mon…" He lifted her wrist, pressing hard to find a pulse.

"Nixa?" Chris was standing in the doorway while the rest of his family where standing by the window pulling pieces of bush from Piper. Ben shook his head, still searching for the pulse that would signify her life.

He didn't find it.

"Leo!" Chris yelled, crouching down beside Ben, "Get here and do your job…" Nixa's eyes were staring at him from the darkness and shadows underneath the table, wide and blank.

Chris took her arm and pulled, shifting her weight towards him, trying to ignore how cold her flesh was. As the rest of her body came into light he discovered a huge stab wound in her stomach. As he pulled her from under the table the rug stopped soaking the blood slightly, and a gruesome crimson flood poured towards Ben and Chris.

Her other hand was still clutching the sword which was embedded in her stomach, whether Morca had put that there or not was beside the point. No more blood was pumping out of her wound, and as Leo came beside her, his hands already glowing they realized that she was slowly fading from view.

"No… No, no… Heal her!" Chris yelled, "Come on, do something good for once!" Leo held his hands over the fallen Hunter, but nothing happened.

"Chris… I'm sorry…"

"No! No, heal her! You're not ever sorry! You couldn't even come down! I was nearly dead by the time you actually bothered to get here! You're no different and you never will be!"

"Chris…"

"Save it!" Chris yelled, tears sparkling in his eyes.

"Whoa, ok…" Phoebe said, sitting down heavily on the floor, "I'll… just… be down… here…"

"This isn't going to help Chris…" Paige said, holding her nephew's arm.

"He doesn't care, don't you get that?" Chris shouted, rounding on Paige, "He could have been here… _should _have been here… but he WASN'T!" He turned back to Leo, his voice full of venom, _"I hate you…"_

"Chris, no…" Leo said, shaking his head, "Listen…"

"I don't want to listen!" He leapt at his father, but Paige orbed him onto one of the dining room chairs.

"That won't help, Chris!" Paige said, orbing him backwards and he got up again, breaking the chair as he slammed into it, "Trust me ok," She added, softer, "That won't help."

"I had a lot to think about, Chris. I didn't want to come back down, not after that bombshell… I treated you like dirt…"

Chris got up from the wreckage of the chair, fists clenched, "This is not news to me."

"And I needed to be alone; I didn't even realize anyone was calling me…"

Everyone was looking at Chris now, so when the attack came not straight on from Chris and Ben's fist connected with Leo's jaw, everyone was surprised.

"You self-obsessed bastard." Ben hissed, watching Leo stagger.


	2. Chapter 2

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* * *

And here we go, straight into it.**

* * *

Why hadn't the blood disappeared? Why was the metallic stench filling their nostrils, the sight of the crimson pool turning their stomachs? Ben was breathing heavily, taking shuddering gulps of air, hot tears pricking the back of his eyes. His head was shaking side to side, disbelieving, his face was two hazel tunnels of despair.

Leo was on the floor, his hand over his jaw, massaging it and working it slowly. Ben didn't acknowledge him. Instead he just looked down at his knuckles, not sure if it was Leo's blood or his own staining them a red-brown. He didn't care.

The pain of loss gnawed at his heart and he suddenly wished he was anywhere but here. Anywhere but in this room. Back in the future would be good, where they had all been relatively safe at least, but not here, not with Nixa dead and Bridget disappeared. Everything seemed to be falling apart in his hands, slipping through his fingers as he tried to hold on to the pieces in a vain hope he'd be able to put them back together again, make everything all right again.

Chris was suddenly on his feet again, anger emanating from him in dizzying waves. "All you had to do was listen, Dad. Just once be there when I needed you, come when I called — not when Wyatt called, when I called. Why is that so hard? But now, guess what? You think of me as so worthless that someone is dead because of it. She was one of my best friends…" He broke off, his throat constricting too much to carry on.

"Chris, look-" Leo said, hurt. He had gone so far for some peace, just to think about things he had said and thought about Chris that he should never have done, to digest the news that it was hard for him to hear anyone calling, even the Elders, so deep was he in thought. He couldn't explain that to Chris, though. Even he felt selfish, and Chris would think of it as much worse.

"Oh, I'm doing so well, aren't I," Chris said bitterly, cutting Leo off. He watched his father fall silent before carrying on; he didn't want to hear what Leo had to say right now. "I bring everyone back here and what happens? Bridget gone, Nixa dead… They all get hurt; it's all my fault…"

"It's not your fault." Piper snapped, suddenly savage. She had surprised herself. "You didn't know this would happen. Demons just…" Piper struggled but her speech petered out. She couldn't find the words. How do you comfort someone? How did other people do it? Surely there was supposed to be a mother thing she had to do somewhere, but the last kid disaster she had dealt with was Wyatt scraping a knee falling down after trying to walk. How was she meant to do this? This was hardly a situation in which she could stick a multi-coloured Band-Aid on it and kiss it better, was it?

Chris looked up at her, "Piper… Mom. I really did get used to you saying things that could make everything all better but… But I don't think there's a whole lot you can say. She's dead because of me. Don't you get that?"

"Chris-"

"Would everyone just stop saying my name?!" He yelled suddenly, "Just… stop…" God, he was loosing it, wasn't he? Snapping at everyone like that. He forced himself to calm down slightly.

Leo got up and tentatively put a hand on Chris's shoulder. The witch-whitelighter turned, temper flaring again and green eyes blazing with venomous fury.

"Don't touch me! What right do you have to touch me? After what you did?" He didn't remove his hand and Chris snarled at his father, "Get off me."

The hatred hit Phoebe like a cold blow to the heart. It was like an iron fist in her chest, squeezing so hard she didn't think she could breathe. Was it possible for someone to hate their father like that? Surely not even Prue had hated Victor as much as Chris felt now. A small nagging voice told her, 'No, but then Daddy never let one of Prue's friends die, did he?' She shook the thought away.****

Suddenly her nephew used his power without meaning to, hitting Leo full in the chest and blowing him off of his feet and through the dining room window in an explosion of noise and shards. He let out a deep breath, momentarily stunned, before a small smile turned his mouth upwards.

Okay. He tried telling himself that loosing control was not the smartest or most mature thing to do, but it felt good to shake off annoying inhibitions and just do something. His mind felt growing slightly clearer now, cleansed of a little anger from his outburst.

Piper gasped as her sort-of husband shattered the pane, coloured glass falling around him and blasting outwards. Suddenly all was quiet until a piece of glass clinked to the floor.

"Chris!" Piper snapped at son, her mouth working but her brain not connecting enough to find words. Kids don't throw their fathers through windows, they weren't supposed to. All Piper could think of was a ridiculous notion of grounding her son. Like that was going to work, the state he was in. . .

"Sorry about the window, Mom," he said, turning to her.

"That's not what I meant and you know it," she snapped, folding her arms in anger.

"Oh. He'll be fine," Chris said coldly, sneering slightly. "He's kinda like a bug that you can't squash, don't you think? With being immortal and all, right?"

"Don't say that about your father, Chris Halliwell. He's a good man, he _tried…"_

"Well he didn't try very hard, did he? He didn't _try_ to listen; he didn't _try_ to get here in time to save Nixa, did he? It's all very well for someone to _try_, Mom, but he didn't. If he had tried at all, he would have had plenty of time to get here. But he didn't even try."

He turned to Ben for support, but his friend was looking down at the near-black blood on his jeans and shirt. He tried to rub away the tears on his face with his sleeve but only smeared a crimson stain across his face. A tear rolled through it, creating a pink-coloured drop and track mark. He sniffed.

The look of anger on his friend's face began to scare even Chris. Ben so rarely got angry. When Chris looked at the witch's hands he saw crackling flames dancing around the fingertips, snaking their way through bright red and glowing fingers. The fire began twisting its way up his arms, coiling and changing colour to silver-white.

"Ok…" Phoebe breathed, feeling so many emotions she wished she could split open her skull and tear them out one by one, just to make sense of them. They all came to her in a jumbled mass, most of the time not even one after the other.

"What, Pheebs?"

"Anger… Pain with sadness, hate and… pain… anger, grief… Gods there are no many…" She moaned slightly screwing her eyes shut and placing the heel of her hand to her forehead.

"Honey, you're not making too much sense," Piper prompted gently. "Which one?"

"Both. They're so angry. It hurts… They're crumbling from the inside…"

Silence followed Phoebe's dramatic announcement. They had known that the two of them were bad, but could they be as bad off as the empath was trying to make out? Surely not.

"Hey, didn't you say anger was…" Paige began, breaking the silence at last and frowning slightly.

"The trigger to Prue's power…" Piper finished softly.

"Then I don't need Phoebe to tell me that we have two seriously big ticking time bombs over there."

"Can we handle them?" Piper asked doubtfully.

"The Power of Three can handle anything." Leo said, orbing back into view. The confidence in them that Piper normally felt radiating from him barely penetrated her skin. She doubted he was right.

"What took you so long?" Paige asked.

"Look, Leo…" Piper said, sighing and beginning to show the rest of the room her doubts. "There might be nothing stronger than the Power of Three, but they have had their powers more than two decades. Compared to that we're only just coming into our powers. That and the fact that someone they knew and it looked like loved has just died. God, I know that that feels like…"

Leo thought he understood what his sort-of wife was saying, but at the same time, he knew that these were not the same circumstances. "She wasn't Prue, Piper."

"I know that. What I'm trying to say is that they're hurting and I understand why. And they're good; we can't exactly vanquish them, can we? He's my – our – son. And loss hurts, a lot. Don't you get that? We can't just say a quick rhyme and have everything sorted out. The Power of Three is strong, but how does that work against pain?"****

"We're still here, you know," Chris interrupted. "We're not bits of furniture; we can still hear what you're saying." What his Mom had said had touched him, it really had. But Leo wouldn't even _look_ at him. How do you like that? Leo knew that he had screwed up and he couldn't even face Chris and say he was sorry. It would be fine with him if he never saw his Dad again. He clenched his fists, the nails digging into his palms.

"We don't mean it like that…" Paige said, sighing, her voice tired. "We just…"

"Then how did you mean it, Paige?" Chris's voice broke and he put his head in his hands, massaging his eyes with his palms.

Paige closed her mouth, unable to answer that show of grief. How did other people do it? When her parents died she knew that nothing that anyone could say to her had comforted her in the slightest. There was nothing you could say to someone in this situation.

Leo tried a different tack, and Paige knew immediately that this was not the best idea. It was an over-used cliché, one she personally hated.

"Do you think this is what Nixa would have wanted?"

Paige winced inwardly. Oh boy, here it comes…

Ben's head snapped around, "Don't you dare assume anything about her! All you know is that she's dead because you can't do your job!" The flames that had been wrapping themselves around Ben's forearms were suddenly released in two columns, narrowly missing Leo as he orbed and obliterating the sideboard behind him.

Piper and Paige threw their arms over their faces as wood and other miscellaneous debris blew at them. Phoebe ducked behind the wall between the dining room and the conservatory. Only Chris and Ben seemed unaffected. When the smoke cleared Ben was standing alone in the middle of the chaos, burning wood littering the floor around him. Paige spat ash out of her mouth and looked on in disbelief at the wrecked sideboard.

"Uh, Leo? Are we sure we can handle this?" She asked uncertainly to the ceiling, trying to comb charcoal dust from her hair.

"Still talking about us?" Chris asked, glaring at his father's back as Leo orbed back into view.

Chris seemed to take the re-arrival of his father as a personal insult, and turned away from him, back to Ben. Icicles were forming and retracting absently at the end of his fingers.

"I don't know about you, but I'm all talked out. So, what do you say about rescuing Bridget now?" Ben asked, creating a disc of ice in his palm, perfectly rounded.

"I say why the hell not?" Chris said, the glint back in his eyes. Killing a demon was just the sort of therapy he needed right now.

Piper noticed the change and the glint and immediately tried to dissuade them. "What? No, wait. You can't go off like that," she pleaded, making this all up as she went along. "You're hurt, you're angry. I get that, because after Prue died I did the same thing. But please think about it, yeah? I put so many people – and myself – in danger because of what I did…" The one thing she was sure of was that, as a mother, it was her job to protect her child. And that meant not letting Chris run off to fight evil without a proper plan.

Chris was suddenly caught up in a struggle inside himself. His Mom was right and he knew it. Maybe this was one of her famed times where she was saying something to make everything better, but slowly one side of the argument won a landslide victory, and he tried to explain to her.

"I've got to find Bridget, ok? I've got to. We… Bridget and I…"

"History. A whole lot of history," Ben supplied shortly, suddenly impatient. His fingers were tingling.

"Exactly. So just understand. Can't you understand?" He asked her, pleading with her to understand, to get why he had to do this. He wasn't sure she did, and he was desperate to make her understand, he just didn't know how…

"We get it, sweetie," Phoebe said, wobbly standing up. Chris turned to her. "We know how you feel, and I'm not just saying that. We really do. But if you give us old ladies a moment to catch up, we'll blast him to pieces courtesy of the Charmed Ones, okay?"

"Hey, watch who you're calling old!" Paige called. She was in the kitchen, for some reason, rummaging through some of the drawers.

Chris smiled and Paige and then spoke to the middle sister. "Phoebe… Thanks. But I think we got this one, okay?" As he finished speaking orbing lights surrounded himself and Ben.

"Wait!" Piper cried, and Leo waved a hand, stopping the orb.

"Leo!" Chris yelled, raising a hand to blast his father into the foyer, preferably as far away from him as he could manage. Leo hit the table in the middle of the hall, knocking the vase to the floor.

"Stop it! Now!" Piper commanded. "Stop this fighting before someone gets hurt!" Piper went to step forwards but Ben held out his arm, catching her in the chest and stopping her.

"Don't," he instructed her simply.

"He's hurting him!" Piper shouted, trying to cram some reason through the young witch's skull. She failed miserably in her aim.

Ben shrugged, "It's something Chris has got to do." Another shattering noise from the foyer and Piper smacked Ben's shoulder in frustration, but he wouldn't budge. She looked down at her sister, who was gently rubbing her temples and muttering to herself. Phoebe was a total mess, there was no help there. And Paige… Paige was still rummaging, clinking glass and metal together in drawers. What she was looking for was a mystery. By the sounds of it she was turning into as big a basket case as Phoebe.

This time splintering wood made even Ben look round. Chris had walked into the entryway and had thrown Leo into the banisters, smashing them into splinters of wood. Leo fell back down to the floor as Chris's sneer became much more pronounced and he lifted the Elder towards the ceiling with a violent motion of his arm.

A loud thud announced Leo hitting a wall. Piper thought she heard the wind being driven out of him. A picture fell from its nail in the dining room and shattered as the partition shook with each impact. Piper hit Ben's arm with her fist, but he didn't even flinch. This was hopeless…

"Don't you get it? Chris has got to do this. For his sanity as much as everyone else's." Ben tried to explain to Piper again, but he still wasn't sure she got it totally.

"Damn it, Ben!" Piper yelled, angry for him getting in the way and not allowing her to stop Chris half-killing Leo. How could he be so calm? She hit his arm yet again, but got no reaction. Perhaps she wasn't hitting him hard enough…

Her assaults slowed as she suddenly thought clearly enough to see maybe why it was that Ben was doing it. Helping Chris get away with what he was doing, that is. Not only was he angry at Leo Chris was too, and Ben might be the only one of them there apart from Chris knowing exactly how many father-son issues that the pair of them had to work through. Well, the issues that Chris had to work through with Leo, seeing as Leo hadn't had many – or, better put, none - father-son moments with Chris yet.

He and only he could even begin to comprehend how much Chris was hurting over everything that had been done or said to him by Leo. The pain he was feeling over Nixa and the hatred towards Leo was dwarfed by the need for Chris to let out pent up aggression he had against his father. She thought she might be beginning to understand, but that did not mean she had to support it. Or did she? Did she have to stick up for Chris's cause and not Leo's? Her head span as she quickly tried to work out where her loyalties led, and then where they should lie.

With every impact of Leo's body Piper wondered if it was helping dissipate the anger that was fuelling her son's power-kick, and then she always felt guilty. What he was doing was unjustifiable, especially to his own flesh and blood. A nagging voice asked her if she was sure that Leo didn't deserve everything that he was getting. The question didn't leave her, and that was something that made her worry even more.

But there was the sound of splintering glass and a cloud of gas billowed up from the floor with a loud _'whumph', _engulfing Ben. The brunette witch immediately crumpled to the floor, and Piper quickly stepped backwards from the rush of fumes.

Another vial was tossed in Chris's direction but by sheer, dumb luck it didn't break. That is, it didn't break until Chris trod on it, crunching the glass beneath the sole of his sneaker. The glass emitted the same rush as the first had done, and soon Chris hit the deck just as quickly as his friend had done.

Piper looked to the kitchen and when the potion had finally cleared it revealed a very guilty-looking Paige standing in the doorway, gnawing on her bottom lip.

* * *

"They're gonna be pissed when they wake up," Phoebe warned, looking down at her nephew and his friend who had just been orbed onto the couches.

"Phoebe! Little ears!" Piper scolded, pressing Wyatt's head to her chest and covering up his free ear. He was awake and slightly fussy; it seemed the explosion had shaken him up. Piper was pacing the room with him, shushing him, hoping to get him back to sleep.

From behind his blue triquetera blanket and his thumb he kept casting dubious looks at Ben. "It's ok, Honey…" Piper shushed, bouncing him gently and removing her hand.

"Yeah, I know they're gonna be…" Paige looked at Piper, rolling her eyes, "Annoyed. It just seemed like a good idea…"

"Sleeping potions cause hangover-like symptoms. They really will be incredibly irritable." There was an odd note in Leo's voice that sounded to Paige like he hoped they ended up with some of the worst side-effects going but was much too much of a pacifist to voice it.

"I just thought it would stop them hurting themselves. And us… I'm sorry… I just knew Piper had some potions in the kitchen and, well… From experience people who are grieving don't always have the best judgement. And they seemed to be grieving on a huge scale… Kinda not good for killing demons…"

"Maybe this is a good thing. Maybe now you can go after their friend unhindered," Leo said, folding his arms and leaning against the doorframe.

"Without them?" Paige asked, blinking.

"Yeah, why not?"

"Why not? Because we don't know her, and they're unconscious… And…"

Piper shifted Wyatt from one hip to the other. "Look, when you were all gone Nixa was telling me about them. Well, kind of inadvertently but anyway… She was telling me that they used to hunt demons as teenagers…" She trailed off, untangling her necklace from Wyatt's hand. "Which, by the way, gives me the upper hand if Chris ever tries to sneak out… But a demon has taken their best friend, and is using her to make the new Source. Come on, we've got to help out."

"Been there, done that," Phoebe said dryly, looking down at the two sleeping guys.

"Well Leo's right… If they're that close to each other then they're gonna be pi-" Paige caught Piper's scowl and cleared her throat, "They're gonna be annoyed that we don't get her."

Leo took Wyatt off of Piper, as if the decision had already been made. It was clear what he wanted, even if he didn't say it. Paige wondered when her kind-of brother-in-law became so manipulative. Maybe those Elders weren't having a positive affect on him. "Hey, Buddy! Mommy's gotta go out for a while, kill some bad guys, yeah?"

"Leo! Not the k-word!" ****

Now she knew that her sweet, blonde son became the ruler of the world, not just all evil, paranoia had set in. Not once did she allow anyone to mention anything to do with killing of any kind, or even the sword, in front of him. If there was something she could do to stop him becoming evil then she would do it. God help her, she would.

"What? Oh, Piper, come on…" Leo caught her look and quickly stopped protesting. "Mommy's gotta go out. You're gonna spend some time with Daddy, yeah?" Wyatt offered Leo his thumb. Leo chuckled. "No, that's yours, little man. You keep it."

"Aw… I'm betting the scene down there won't be so cute." Paige orbed potions into her hands. "Right, here we go, step right up, people, one at a time, don't push."

"If your temp jobs don't work out you could go work at a fairground," Phoebe joked, taking a potion.

"What? And waste my talents selling defective rubbish to children?" She flicked her hair behind her shoulder. "Never."

"Come on, you," Piper said, rolling her eyes and laughing. "Down there, please." And they orbed away.

* * *

"It's about bloody time, Chri- Oh, hey…" Bridget blinked, standing up and the Charmed Ones separated, clutching potion vials and going into battle positions. "Um…" Bridget stepped aside and revealed the dead demon on the floor, turning to the side to reveal it fully. "Oops… Sorry."

"Oh." Piper lowered her potion, slightly sheepish. "Well okay…"

"You killed him? There's not even a tiny bit left for us?" Paige asked, disgruntled and cramming her vial into her pocket.

"No, sorry… He got on my nerves. Where's Chris? Is he ok?"

"Uh… He's fine." Phoebe said, "He just couldn't make it."

"Oh, I'll give him 'couldn't make it'," Bridget said darkly, her eyes narrowing. After all of this, he couldn't even be bothered to orb his ass down her and come and get her?

Piper was looking curiously at Bridget's sideways on, ignoring the conversation and noticing the size of her stomach. "Honey…" She started, not quite sure what to say. "Honey are you… if you don't mind me asking, pregnant, maybe?"

Bridget huffed, "Just slightly, only around **three months**." She tried smoothing her top down over her abdomen, sighing as she failed to conceal it. "I don't think these are maternity clothes…" She said more to herself than the witches, looking down to where she could see her belly coming slightly out of the top.

"Oh…" Guilt suddenly hit Piper. They'd now lost an innocent and let Bridget become infused with the new Source. The Charmed Ones were really doing their job right today, weren't they? "We got here too late… We're so sorry… We tried…" Piper fumbled for the right words, but what could anyone say in that situation?

"Well there's not much you can do now…" Bridget said, looking up and giving Piper a rueful half-smile. What was done was done; she'd just have to trust in magic to undo it.

Piper was completely unused to Bridget, her ways and her attitude, so she wasn't really sure if what she was coming even close to the right thing to say. With most people you could tell by the way they responded to what you were telling them, but Bridget… She had her own unique way that was confusing Piper. Hell, it confused most of her friends and they'd known her for so much longer than Piper.

Paige was absently kicking away rubble from the smashed altar, sneezing as the dust attacked her nostrils and throat. A small cascade of rocks showered her shoe in dust and when it subsided the corner of a book was sticking out. Frowning she tugged at it.

"We can reverse it, it will be ok…" Piper soothed.

"Can I just go and see Chris? Please?" Bridget said, sounding completely worn out. She was bone tired. She could barely remember the last time she had slept and everything today seemed to be draining her.

"Guys?" They turned to see Paige blowing the dust off of the cover of the book she had found. "I think this might be his grimoire or something…" She flipped it over, looking at the spine.

"Is it useful?" Piper asked, rubbing Bridget's hand with her thumb, a small gesture but it was really all she had to give.

"Could be," Paige said, flipping open the cover, "Hm… This is odd. It's not even protecting itself from me…" As she said this she yelped, dropping the heavy tome to the floor with a thud. Tears pricked her eyes as her hands swelled and grew large, painful welts before her eyes.

"Paige! Are you ok, sweetie?" Phoebe said, shrugging off her jacket and picking up the grimoire with it before taking her sister's arm.

Paige sniffed, "I spoke to soon, I guess. Leo can heal me, right?" The pain continued to grow and her hands blistered even more. They were now too stiff to move her fingers.

"Of course he can, Honey… Come on; let's get everyone home, alright?" Paige nodded, reaching out for Piper and Bridget before orbing them all back to the Manor.

* * *

When Leo saw the state of Paige's hands he immediately put Wyatt down into his playpen and began to heal her. Wyatt reached up for someone, anyone, but no one came to pick him up. He sat down heavily. Slowly the wounds smoothed and faded and Leo stepped back.

"Thanks, Leo," Paige said gratefully, sniffing.

"Chris!" Bridget yelled suddenly, seeing the half-witch lying on the couch. She had made the others in the room jump, and Wyatt was making noises of discontent from his playpen. Bridget knelt down next to him, turning her neck to look back at the rest of the family and taking his hand. "What happened?" Her eyes were looking too panicked for Piper's liking, as if she was expecting the worst. Piper then realized that between the blood staining his hands, face and clothes and the way his face was still pulled into a frown even in sleep, she would have thought the worst, too.

"Uh… An accident with a sleeping potion," Phoebe said, looking sideways at Paige, who studied the floor. "They'll be okay; they've just got to sleep it off."

"Oh, is that it?" Bridget asked, standing up using the couch and automatically pulling her top down. The four other adults in the room blinked, surprised.

What they didn't know was that as long as she had known the two sleeping witches, they had been knocking themselves out, changing their colour and shape, and burning themselves making potions. It wasn't really a big deal any more; you could hardly make it a drama when it happened once a week. But with that much blood involved, she had leaned toward the far side of panic. "I thought he was dying again…" She laughed in her own relief and then paused, her eyes widening. "You didn't hear that."

"Hear what?"

Bridget smiled gratefully, sitting down on part of the couch that Chris didn't currently occupy and picking her nails, hating the silence but not knowing how to break it. She silently willed someone to speak.

"Bridget, we don't have many places left for you to sleep…"

Relief washed over her, as well as gratitude towards Piper. She'd just made the situation less awkward.

"I mean there's the couch in the attic but it won't be very comfortable… It's been blasted too many times…" Piper apologized. "You'll get springs poking in you."

Right now, anywhere Bridget could lay her head and _sleep_ was fine with her. Her eyes were heavy and exhaustion was making her ears ring. "That's ok, I've slept on worse."

That was true; she'd once slept in a storm drain and had been woken up in the middle of the night by a rat crawling on her face. Suddenly she had been wide awake and ready to get up.

"Really?"

"I promise," Bridget assured Piper and the rest of them. Compared to the storm drain, the Halliwell couch was a feather bed.

"Well, if you're sure…" Piper said, sounding slightly doubtful. "Phoebe will find you some blankets and stuff… And tomorrow we'll work on that baby, ok?" What a horrible choice of words. Piper looked to see if Bridget had been offended, but she just gave a tired smile. Piper wasn't sure if everything she was saying was computing anymore in the Hunter's mind. She was beginning to enter that drowsy stage herself, the stage where it felt like someone had poured treacle into her ear and it was slowing down everything going on in her brain to a hard struggle, barely a crawl. She could sympathize totally with Bridget right at this moment, and the Hunter looked even more tired than she felt.

"Thanks, Mrs. Halliwell."

"It's Piper, sweetie."

"Thanks Piper," Bridget mumbled sleepily, suddenly ready to fall asleep right now.

"Ok, come with me and I'll get you something to sleep under." Phoebe steered Bridget quickly into the foyer and up the stairs, before she could really fall asleep where she stood. Relief showed on her face that she hadn't asked about Nixa. That was not going to be a pleasant conversation, and the fact that everyone was dead beat would not help matters. No. Tomorrow was another day, thank God. As long as this one didn't go on forever. If it did, Phoebe wasn't sure she could handle it. Her head still pounded through the aspirin she had taken to dull the headache that empathy had given her.

When they had climbed out of sight Leo asked, "What are you going to tell her?" He had read Phoebe's expression, and to be honest, they had all been just as relieved as she was that Bridget hadn't asked about Nixa. That was something they would all prefer to be done in the morning.

"We'll have to think of something…" Piper said, a weight settling in her chest. She sighed rubbed her eyes, which were glassy with tiredness. "It'll be okay. We'll do it somehow. Break it gently, yeah?"

She picked up Wyatt from his playpen and Paige picked up the grimoire wrapped in the jacket, examining the cover. She took it out of the lounge and into the foyer, frowning as she carried it up the stairs and tucking it under her arm. She disappeared into her room, and her door closing echoed down the stairs.

"Guess she was too engrossed to say goodnight…"

"Night, Piper," Leo said.

"Good night, Leo." She headed for the light switch in the foyer.

"Uh… Piper?"

She turned without snapping off the light. "What?"

He kissed her softly on the cheek before orbing away without waiting for her reaction. Piper stared at the place the orbs had occupied for a second or two before flicking off the light and plunging the Manor into darkness.

* * *

**Whew! And there we have it. Chapter for LOS is coming soon as well, stay with me here, people!**

**Twisted Flame**

****

**Nemesis' Arrow**: - Congratulations on being the first of many to say that. Thanks for the review.

**Dark Fires**: - I also finally updated the sequel. Heh. Anyways thanks for your review.

**Crimson Amber**: - Heh… About that fast update…

**AK8**: - Thanks, I hope you're happy.

**Claddagh Ring**: - Ah, I have two sets of grandparents like that. One set just got a cell phone. Now THAT'S hilarious. They panic if it rings. Thanks for your review, you're too kind. Hoping you liked this chapter even more!

**Queen Isa**: - Lol, thanks.

**Faith**: - You're going to have to just wait and see… =P Lol, thanks for your review, and your comments.

**Aldrea7**: - I don't really do fast updates, do I? Heh, no. Thanks for your review.

**Stony Angel**: - Nixa? Yes, she has gone. :: sniff :: Gone to where there is damn elevator music played by harps and lots of clouds… I'm gonna shut up now, thanks for reviewing.

**princesscatie21**: - I thought you might say something like that. Heh. Thanks for reviewing.

**Charmed Amber**: - Meh, well I don't like Leo. I used to, but now he's evil all the time. Sure it's me making him evil but that's beside the point… Holidays are fun, yes. Ok, see you soon.

**Dominique1**: - Ah, the law? I think I might need to be in jail right now. I won't pass go, and I won't collect £200. Thanks for reviewing, by the way, you're… wacky! Lol, ahem. Anyways…

**cherry7up56**: - Heh, that's fine, because I'm always late on updating. Lol.


	3. Chapter 3

**Just a few quick things. I don't own Charmed, they all belong to some rich dude/ette somewhere is some place.**

**And there's excessive language in the latter part of this chapter... Well... what used to be the latter part before it grew... Arguments are fun... But consider yourself warned. **

**And on another warning note this is a long chapter, my longest yet. Please don't yell at me, I couldn't find a good place to split it. So I recommend a beverage of your choice and a snack, lol, and enjoy the ride.**

_**Learning to Tango**_

Chris tossed and turned on the couch, eventually making the springs give a groan of protest. His face was contorted into a frown and his eyes were closed tighter then in a normal sleep. A small moan escaped his slightly-parted lips and he rolled over again, knocking a cushion to the floor.

Suddenly he snapped his eyes open, groaned and sat up. _Strange_, he thought, getting stiffly to his feet and carefully making his way through the dark to the kitchen. He felt hot; maybe he could get a drink or something...

"What the hell?" He muttered, blinking against the slow strobe sending pulsing blue and green light through the club. He looked behind him at the dining room table and chairs, and then in front of him at the stairs down into the club.

Take me over, I'm lying down 

_I'm giving in to you_

Standing at the top of the staircase for a few moments, Chris shook his head and began making his way through the slowly dancing crush, spotting Phoebe standing atop a table, waving her arms as if orchestrating the band on stage. She waved eagerly at him, hopping down and skipping toward him.

"Can you believe that we actually got this band?" The witch gushed, turning him to face the stage. Their faces were masked, concentrating on their song. "I mean, they're like, not even around yet! They don't exist!" Giggling, she went back to her table.

Chris frowned, turning away and forcing the questions from his mind, having a feeling that they would only cause more problems anyway. He headed towards one of the booths. He needed to think for a bit.

"I'm totally losing this," Paige scowled, looking down at the chessboard. Gideon chuckled and took her bishop. "The girls said not to fight it, but dammit if I'm not gonna win this." She chewed on her lip and looped her hair behind her ears, determined to win.

I'm a hurricane 

Gideon set the piece aside. "Now, now, we wouldn't want the cosmos to stop spinning, would we?"

I cannot describe this feeling 

"Yeah well, Chris is better at this than me." Paige looked up at him. "You play; I'll tell them you'll be by in a minute." Her face suddenly became dreamy as she sauntered away. Chris slid into the booth and looked at the pieces.

"I'm white." He said, looking at Gideon.

"My boy if you're not careful at deciding which ones are yours to command, the world could stop turning, you'll shift the balance. Wouldn't want that now, would we?"

Chris nodded and slid back out. He needed to find... something. Maybe a drink would help. "Hey Rick!" He called over the music, jumping up on a stool. "Could you-"

Now that I've found this love 

"Hi, Chris!" Nixa smiled, wiping the bar in front of him. "You're late."

"So? You're dead!" He shouted suddenly, jumping off of the stool and suddenly accusing. "You faded away and... And you can't be here."

"Well, I'm here, aren't I?" She stated very matter-of-factly, setting a large vanilla and mint milkshake in front of him.

I'll do anything for you 

Chris shook his head and pulled a face, pushing it back toward her. "Bridget likes those, not me." They made him feel sick. Leo grabbed it, popping up from behind the bar.

"Aww, come on Chris, give it a try."

Chris frowned, shaking his head and sitting back down. "No thanks."

Nixa leaned conspiratorially towards Leo. "I think he's scared to try new things." She whispered loudly with a giggle. Chris only frowned deeper, if that was possible.

Leo nodded rather sadly. "Well, maybe he's afraid to admit we're right."

"No, he's just stubborn." Nixa stuck her tongue at him. "Just like you."

Chris smacked the counter top. "I'm nothing like him." He growled, eyes flashing. "And why are you like this with him? He let you die, don't you get that?"

Now that I've found this love 

Nixa shrugged it off and pushed the shake closer. "Nothing's like it seems." She explained. "I mean sometimes everything is completely different, you think you know something and then whoosh, it's ripped out from under you like a rug and you fall on your ass." The three of them looked down at the milkshake. "See, chocolate."

Chris blinked a few times, shrugged and began sipping at the drink. After all, in his life, stranger things had happened and continued to happen every day.

Piper wandered over with a case of bottle pop in her arms. She set it down on the bar with a thump and much clinking of glass. "Don't go into this too fast. If you don't see where you're jumping, you could really get hurt."

"My milkshake?" He asked, confused. But Piper had gone. He stirred the shake before sipping at it once more.

"What's the matter, Chris?"

_I'm a fire, burning like a house aflame_

"Bridget?" He looked up at her smiling down at him. "You're wearing... pink."

She frowned and looked down at the neon coloured top. "Yeah well, not my choice." Bridget smiled and pecked him on the lips. "Mmmm, you took my vanilla and mint." She had tasted it on his mouth, he realized. But he hadn't been drinking vanilla and mint... She grabbed his shake, which had reverted back to her preference.

I'm a hurricane 

Chris blinked at the drink before glaring at the band. "God, can't they play something more... upbeat?"

Bridget stirred the milkshake thoughtfully, taking a gulp and shrugging with her mouth full. She swallowed. "Yeah well, Mrs. H has been pretty busy. Her mind is on other things, you know?"

"I guess but..." He trailed off, suddenly jumping up and knocking the glass to the floor and blood began seeping through her shirt. The glass fell in slow motion, shattering and throwing shake and glass all over his sneakers. The mess suddenly vanished and a single gold ring hit the floor and bounced twice.

_I cannot move or see you fly_

_Now that I've found..._

"Oh look, a mortal wound." Bridget looked up at him, flames slowly beginning to consume her. "Sorry for pissing you off."

"Bridget? Bridget! No!" He put his hand in to grab her arm but was met with tingling warmth before a shower of ashes dropped onto his hand. He withdrew his arm and shook off the cinders.

_this love_

"What the hell is going on?"

"Chris, dude, wake up."

"Huh?"

It was Ben. Blearily a face came into view above him, and he swiped his hands over his eyes to force them to focus. He tried again and this time the face came fully into view. Ben was standing above him, sleep still very much evident in his eyes. Chris sat up, feeling his head throb.

He was completely confused. Hadn't he just been in P3? And hadn't he just seen Bridget - he shuddered and looked up again, trying his best to keep the room in focus. A dream. A bad dream nonetheless but a dream was all it had been.

"Are you ok?" Ben asked, concerned and noticing his friend shuddering.

Chris considered. The inside of his mouth tasted kind of funny, and it hurt to talk. He felt like he'd been beaten in the stomach and head with a crowbar until it had knocked him out. "I guess so." He said in the end, just to cut out the explanations, knowing that they would do no good right now. "Where are we?" Fearing capture, he sat up far too quickly and just had time to catch a glimpse of the Manor's conservatory before having to lie back down.

Ben closed his eyes and sank back down onto his couch, gently rubbing his temples. "In the Manor still." The ache in his head was dull but extremely powerful, pulsating with every beat his heart made.

Ben had a feeling that he knew the next question Chris was going to ask and to be honest, he didn't know. His brain felt like it was full of fog and he could barely see straight, let alone answer questions that he wouldn't actually have the answers to when he didn't feel like this.

"What happened?" See? He knew it.

Ben sighed, slotting details in his mind into chronological order and hoping that it would help. It did somewhat, and parts of it came into clearer focus before everything just dissolved.

"Don't ask me. I don't actually remember much." He said, just because he was still sorting it out in his own mind. He looked down at the blood still staining his clothes, pain and grief building inside him again. All his emotions had gone while he had been sleeping and now realization was dawning and it hurt more than ever as it tried to sink in, worming its way through eating as it went. "Unfortunately I don't think I forgot enough either." He said quietly, looking back up at Chris.

The haggard, haunted look in his friend's eyes was all he needed to tell him that Chris also remembered that Nixa was dead. Whatever it was that had hit them had done nothing to disperse the anger at Leo for letting her die. What it had done was dulled the memories so much that they became a haze in some places. Chris thought he could remember throwing Leo around the entryway but after that...

Everything blurred into one, black mass that sucked the rest of the time away. Chris wished he knew what had happened and he punched the back of the couch in frustration, hating not feeling in control. He voiced a theory instead, trying to get back on top of the situation. "You think the demon got us?"

"And your Dad was too pissed to heal us?" It hurt to let too much light into his sensitive pupils because it made his headache worse, so he narrowed his eyes to a squint and looked over at Chris, who was frowning now.

Chris hadn't thought about Leo being angry and hurt and not wanting to heal them. Maybe that's why they'd stayed unconscious so long. Something was niggling at the back of his head, though.

"Yeah... But do you feel beat up anywhere?"

"My head. And my stomach kind of. My neck hurts but I think that might have been the couch." Ben stretched as if to emphasize the point and heard his neck and shoulders crack.

"Then that's probably what the demon did because I feel the same way. Do you hurt anywhere else?" Chris wished he knew where he was going with this.

"No..." Ben replied, sounding surprised. He had never thought to ask himself that question and he wasn't sure where Chris was going with this thought. He could see that his friend was uncertain as well. "But then my head hurts enough for all of me, so-"

"Then if we're not hurt, someone must have healed us. I remember getting pretty bashed around with that demon." Chris said slowly, forming the words on his lips split seconds after his brain made them. He wasn't entirely sure if what he was saying made sense; he was only thinking aloud after all, bouncing things off of Ben to see how they worked out.

"Your train of thought just missed my station, Chris. So if we were healed then why aren't we awake?"

"I don't know." Chris groaned, rubbing his hands over his face. He felt heavy and weighed down and his headache had come back again. His eyes itched with tiredness and he forced a yawn back down his throat. "You know what? I think some coffee would be good right about now." They heard slipper-softened footfalls on the stairs and looked to see Paige coming down the staircase, pausing on the half landing.

"Coffee? Someone mention coffee? As in the one with caffeine in it right, and not Piper's pregnancy de-caff crap? Because if I wanted to drink brown water, there's this puddle in the basement."

His aunt's crabbiness rarely failed to amuse him. "Morning, Paige." Chris greeted with a slight chuckle.

"Don't morning me unless you're about to produce some caffeine from behind your back, mister." Although Paige was at the bottom of the stairs and Chris was in the sitting room he could feel his aunt's need to come and poke him in the chest.

"Piper's not down yet, there's no coffee." Ben told her, covering a yawn with his hand.

"Really? I'm gonna have to drink instant?" She pulled a face, disappointment making her pout. "Yuck."

Chris rolled his eyes. "Did you actually sleep last night?" Chris asked, sitting up and looking at his aunt. Her eyes were ringed with dark shadows and her complexion looked slightly worse than it had done last night - she was paler and a spot had broken out on her forehead.

"Sleep? Me? Of course, out like a light." Chris cocked an eyebrow at her and she sighed, stamping her foot. "Oh Ok, I'm thinking I need to go back and put some more makeup on. You really know how to flatter a girl, don't you?" Paige came in through the dining room. "Besides who needs sleep when I can just drink coffee?"

"She has a point." Ben said, laughing but then pinching the bridge of his nose and pain shot through his skull.

"Are you guys ok?" Paige asked, trying to keep her involvement in their symptoms out of it as much as possible.

"Headache." Ben muttered, willing the nausea to stop.

"Yeah?" Paige said, feeling guilty. She quickly changed the subject. "Come on, between the three of us we've got to have that damn machine covered."

_**Learning to Tango**_

"Why isn't there any coffee made?" Piper asked, wrapping her robe tighter around herself and walking over to the machine. She took out the pot and looked at it. "It's clean; you didn't make some and drink it all; you just didn't make any." She made an exasperated noise and slammed the pot back into the coffeemaker.

"We did try," Paige grumbled moodily, with a hint of teenage sulkiness. "I've just never had to work that thing before. Look." She held up her hand and a large, shiny burn covered half of the back of it.

"You burnt yourself? On the hotplate of the coffeemaker? Good grief this family is useless!" With Piper in command, the machine slowly started to drip coffee into the jug and Piper sat down on the last chair at the table, drumming her fingers on the wood.

"We made instant coffee." Paige said with a shrug, trying to get back into Piper's good books. "You want some? 'Cause we can manage the stove just fine."

"Do I want some of your instant coffee? Next you'll be asking me would I also like to have my tonsils out without anaesthetic."

"Ok, no instant coffee for Piper." Paige said, bringing her own mug to her lips. She had no idea why Piper had such a hate for granulated coffee. To her it tasted no different, but Piper, being an ex-chef, was prone to being fussy.

"Can it, I'm grouchy." The eldest Halliwell chewed on her bottom lip, wiggling her foot impatiently. "Do you have a temp job, Paige? Is that why you're up so early?"

"No, I was up most of the night reading that Grimoire. And then it gave me nightmares. All these people sprouting extra arms out of their heads and all - yeah, yuck."

And that was one of the nicer illustrations. Others in there made her want to go back to looking under her bed and in her closet before she slept at night.

"Where did you get a Grimoire from?" Chris asked, confused. What was a Halliwell doing with an evil Book of Shadows? And more importantly, why had they let it into the Manor? Didn't they know that such an evil could corrupt them and their own Book of Shadows?

"The Underworld." Paige replied with a slurp as if it were no big deal.

Ben's head immediately filled with questions. "Why were you-?" He was cut off as shuffling footsteps came through from the foyer and into the room next to them.

"Ugh. What's with the sun? Damn ball of flaming helium." Bridget continued to mutter and curse just under her breath as she shuffled in from the dining room, a borrowed robe flung over a pair of Piper's pyjamas.

Chris blinked, surprised, before calling out her name. "Bridget?" What was she doing here? Wasn't she in danger in the Underworld? How did this happen? He shook his head to clear the questions and just about caught Bridget's answer.

"That's my name..." Was all the hunter managed to mumble sleepily, rubbing her eyes and being completely unprepared for Chris jumping up and grabbing her. She gave a slight o_omph_ and smacked him on the shoulder. "Don't squeeze me." He apologized and loosened his grip slightly, still hugging her.

"Aren't you supposed to be captured?" Ben asked as Chris ignored her protests. "You're ok, though, right? He didn't hurt you? What happened?" Before Bridget could answer any questions, Chris broke in.

"Whoa." The witch-whitelighter stepped back suddenly. "Did you- uh-" He licked his lips. "Did you put on weight?" Ben snorted coffee through his nose and back into his mug with a splash.

Bridget glared. If looks could kill, so many people would be dead many times over by now, including himself and Chris, who had been quailing under her looks since they'd known her. "It's called a baby, they tend to make us chicks fat, you know?" She snapped, stomping moodily over to the table and grabbing Chris's abandoned mug. "Speaking of which did you find anything about my little bundle of joy in that Grimoire?"

"Hey, I only asked." Chris said defensively.

"Well don't." She bit back, easing herself into a chair and wincing slightly.

"Bridget, no, no, no!" Piper took the beverage from her, as she was about to take a drink.

"What?"

"You can't have coffee, caffeine, bad for the baby. I'll get you some juice."

Bridget poked her stomach. "No thanks, Piper, he says he needs his fix."

She reached for Chris' mug again, but Piper was adamant and took it away. Soon Bridget was sulkily glaring at a glass of orange juice while Piper went and filled her own mug from the now-full coffeepot. Chris hopped up onto the kitchen island because Bridget had taken his seat and started drumming his fingers on the top.

The now-oldest Halliwell tipped her son's mug of coffee down the drain in disgust, drinking her own, so-much-slower-than-instant beverage with relish. Would she like some instant coffee? Ugh. She shoved another one into Chris's hands to halt his protests. Whiny children were not good at this hour, and fortunately she had had just the thing to stop him in his tracks, replacement caffeine.

Ok, if he'd been Wyatt's age she would have given him a pacifier. She amused herself with images of adult Chris with a pacifier and smiled.

"Isn't it great to know that the next generation turned out to be caffeine addicts, Paige?" Piper chirped, now much more cheered.

Paige shrugged. "Well they had really great role models in us, didn't they?" Chris laughed but Piper glared.

"Don't laugh at me or I'm gonna be using contraception, mister." Chris immediately buried his face in his coffee again, sensing Piper's good mood might just have started to evaporate.

Paige looked at herself and her sister who could barely be civil or coherent until they'd had their morning fix. Then she looked at Phoebe, who couldn't even make sounds without the blessing that was java.

"Yeah, well uh, anyway, the Grimoire." Paige cleared her throat, preferring not to voice her opinions with Piper so near. "Uh... It says that..." Paige broke of, struggling with herself. "Do you mind if I get Leo down to help explain?" Paige didn't want to be alone elucidating what she had to say. It might be best if her ex-whitelighter came and helped too, and then the blame couldn't fall all on her for reading the damn book wrong. A blame shared is a blame halved - Somehow Paige didn't think that that was how that saying went.

"Sure. Mom wants to see _Leo_, don't you, Mom?" Even if Chris himself didn't want to see Leo, that was no reason to stop his parents being together in the same room.

Being conceived was good. Fading into nothing was bad. That was a given to anyone.

Piper chose to ignore Chris for now and not let his tactless hinting get to her. She had barely accepted that he was her son, and now he was asking her to accept that she would have to get back together with Leo in order for his conception to take place. The kid was more than a little pushy.

She took a calming breath and called her sort-of husband. "Leo? Come down here a minute, would you?" Piper called to the light fitting. She paused, waiting about thirty seconds before trying again. "Honey, we need some help!" Leo orbed in shortly afterwards next to Piper and kissed her quickly on the cheek by way of greeting.

"What's wrong?" He looked around at the face in the room and his mouth hardened into a line as he saw Chris. "What do you need help with?"

More anger welled up inside Ben and he glared at Leo over the rim of his mug. Life just went on for him, didn't it? Whether Nixa was in life or not didn't actually matter to the Elder. Ben would be feeling the hole where she had been for a very long time, and Leo could just move on, even though he was the one who had let her die. Chris also gave him a frosty green glance and turned his head away from him. Piper shrugged at him and mouthed, 'sorry', catching his hurt look.

An awkward silence followed, which Bridget only half-noticed, too eager to get the news. "Well come on, spit it out." The hunter ordered, looking up from her juice for the first time in a while.

"Yeah... Um... Well here's the thing..." Paige took a deep breath, sensing that she was about to dive into uncharted waters, a sensitive area. "Could you have been pregnant... before he took you?" She finally let out all in a rush.

Leo looked at his wife and sister-in-law. "Wait, what are we talking about?" He really wished that the girls took the time to fill him in before they had such conversations that previously didn't include him. He would feel so much more comfortable.

"Bridget's baby." Piper said softly and Leo nodded, understanding at last.

Bridget made a dismissive noise and gave Paige a look that asked her if she was stupid. "Me? In case you haven't noticed, I'm not the mothering type, ask Nixa. She'll tell you about this virtual pet I used to have..." She trailed off. "By the way, where _are_ Nixa and Phoebe?"

"Phoebe's here!" A voice called suddenly from the entryway as Phoebe came hopping down the stairs, pulling on a shoe as she went. She broke into the conversation and cut it off as she dashed into the kitchen, grabbed a muffin from the basket and downed Chris's coffee.

"Hey! Not again!" Piper rolled her eyes and got back the visions of the pacifier as she handed him her coffee and filled his empty mug for himself. So it was a pacifier and a bottle for Wyatt and coffee for Chris. Damn she was a great mother.

"Oh, I am so late... I'm so busted... Don't Ask Phoebe any questions unless your love life really sucks or she'll be even later and get fired by Elise, ok? Ok, good. Back by seven, love you, bye!" She gave Chris the muffin case and ran from the kitchen.

"Hey, my love life really sucks!" The front doors slammed and Bridget turned back to her juice. "Or not..."

"Put it in the mail like the rest of them, sweetie!" The Manor doors opened and then slammed again and soon they all heard tires screeching on the drive as Phoebe backed out into Prescott Street. A horn blared, and to Piper it sounded like a near miss. She was glad she'd put her own car in the drive with Phoebe's.

Paige blinked. "O-kay. And there we had Hurricane Phoebe. So. How many times did he hit you with that ritual?"

Bridget took more time getting back into the swing of things after Phoebe than Paige had. These people were _nuts..._ Honestly, truly, one hundred percent crazy. Gods she loved this family.

"Just the one, why?" She tried reading Paige's face, but all she could see was that the witch-whitelighter looked troubled, and her words weren't helping.

"It's just that the ritual is designed to give a baby evil powers, you see? An already existing baby." Chris began choking on his coffee in the background.

Ben chuckled silently at the notion of Bridget sleeping around as it was totally out of character for her. It just wasn't something she _did._ Ben's opinion was that most guys were kind of scared of her, but then that was just him.

"Well, then you're wrong. I didn't have a baby. I mean, did I _look_ pregnant to you? All fat and frumpy..."

"Don't answer that if you value you nose and/or your life." Ben advised as Paige opened her mouth to say something.

"Oh."

"Well he can create the baby within a host, but to do that, he needs to hit you with the ritual twice, once to create it, and then once to infuse it with its powers and make it grow." Leo explained. "Most of the time he'd use two crystals for that, because one of them would burn out. It's powerful stuff."

"Where did you find that out?" Paige asked, impressed.

"They have some good reading material Up There." Images of this reading material being Elder porn crossed Ben's mind and he shuddered. It had just been the way Leo had said it that was all. Damn his imagination.

"Wait, hello? You mean I had a baby already? Well that's crap because I only got hit once and I wasn't pregnant already. Seriously. No brats for me at all, ever."

Chris laughed. "Oh come on, Get. Calm down, don't get worked up, it's bad for the baby."

"Screw the baby! And how would you know? I'm the one that's _pregnant_ you idiot! I'll judge what's bad for the kid." She slapped at Chris's hands that he had placed on her shoulders. "And my name is not Get!" He tried massaging her shoulders again, gently trying to relax her and calm her down. "Christopher Halliwell, if you try to de-stress me _one more time_, so help me I will flip you through the window." Chris lowered his hands, holding them out in front of him as if in surrender. "That's better." She gave one nod and turned away from him.

"I'm only trying to help..."

Chris heard a snort of laughter from behind Ben's mug and he glared. Ben only shrugged. "You've got to admit, she does have you whipped... OW!" Bridget had thrown an apple at him as a distraction and as he was catching it smacked him once upside the head with today's newspaper. The paper orbed into Paige's hand and she hit the both of them around the head.

"Hey!" Was the collective response.

"No, don't hey me. You kids play nice or we'll have to put you in timeout. Got it?" Paige threatened. Bridget rolled her eyes and Ben went back to his coffee. And people complained that kids were difficult. All it took was a little childish violence and you had them down. She smiled at her efficiency.

Piper shook her head at the circus that used to be her kitchen before asking, "Is there a way to undo it?" She decided that she ought to cut in and change the subject before Bridget could get too irritable over it.

"Too be honest, it didn't say." Leo told her.

"No," Paige began. "But then again, I figured that it was a book of evil, so why would it say how to undo its own black magic spells? I was thinking that we could go to a huge library of good books."

"Magic School?"

"Yup. Ladies and gentlemen, we're going back to school." Paige informed them with a nod.

"Oh man... I hated it the first time." Ben grumbled with a sigh.

_**Learning to Tango**_

"Did she go out fighting?" Bridget whispered, looking at the floor. She felt her heart being crushed as a part of her life was extinguished; never to be rekindled. Nixa was gone.

"Yeah. Fighting Morca until he killed her." Chris said quietly, bringing raw wounds back to the surface but forcing himself not to cry. He sniffed instead and looked down at the hunter to see how she was going to take the news.

He had left out the part about Leo not getting to the Manor in time, because he knew Bridget was so unpredictable, and he had no way of telling what she would do if she found that out. Probably something worse than what he and Ben had done. He looked guiltily up at the smashed banister.

They had been used to death, what with the hunting, the demon attacks, and the war. They would get through it, but it still didn't mean that they would hurt.

She let a tear slide down her face, and then wiped her nose and eyes on Chris's jacket sleeve. "Good. That's the way she would have wanted to go. I'm glad I snapped that bastard's neck." A flare of hate twisted her mouth.

Chris looked in disgust at his sleeve and Bridget smiled and half-cried, half-laughed, then dried her eyes once more with the heel of her hand, smoothing her eyelashes with her fingers. She looked up at him as he rubbed his sleeve on his jeans.

"You ok?" He asked, knowing that it was probably a stupid question. Inside, Bridget would be devastated. Outside, you would never know what she was feeling. He watched with trepidation as her concrete mask slide up, knowing that she would bottle it up inside and then vent using a display of violence. He just wasn't sure when their next instalment of violence was going to be, so it might not be good for her to be storing things right now. If she stored things for too long she tended to begin taking it out on innocent bystanders.

"That depends, how do I look?" Bridget exhaled and tilted her head so he could see her face.

Chris looked at her. The tears had washed away the tiredness and her eyes were glittering. She smiled and her face lit up, cancelling out the puffy eyes and red nose. She pulled her hair away from her face and dragged it into a low ponytail.

"You honestly look great."

"Then I feel great. Come on, they've gone without us." Chris hugged Bridget and rested his chin on the top of her head, and she finished drying her eyes on his shirt. He kissed her head lightly and as he orbed them out, the scent of her shampoo surrounded him.

_**Learning to Tango**_

"Chris, where were you? We were worried." Piper said, hands on her hips. She had switched to full mothering mode and had a disapproving frown on her face.

"Sorry, we got a little caught up." Bridget informed them. "Now - Whoa, that's a long hall..." She cocked her head to one side and looked to where it disappeared from her sight in a pool of gloom.

"Endless, actually." A voice told them. She whirled around, seeing no one. "Now who are all these people gracing my school with their presence?"

"Gideon? Uh..." Leo began, wanting to be polite but not really sure how to tell his fellow Elder to get visible again.

"Of course, yes, I am sorry. Do forgive me." The voice uncloaked and they turned to see Gideon standing there, casting his eyes over the group. "It's easier to keep an eye on the students this way."

"Gideon, how are you?" Leo greeted as soon as it became apparent that no one else was going to say anything. Leo wasn't sure what it was but none of the group seemed to have warmed to Gideon at all.

"Ah, I'm well, thank you, Leo. How is Wyatt?"

"At Sheila's." Piper said, breaking into the friendly conversation. She could see Bridget shuffling her feet impatiently and she felt the same way. All this peer-to-peer chitchat of Leo and Gideon's was beginning to get on her nerves. "Now-"

"We need to pick your brains, Gideon." Paige interrupted. She too was getting impatient. "And maybe your library..."

All these people talking over one another were going to give the Elder a headache before the day was out. He blinked and replied, "Ah, yes. Yes of course. May I enquire as to the reason?"

"Ok, here we go." Bridget jumped in before anyone else could. She knew that a long explanation was sure to follow and that was the last thing she felt like standing through right now, so she supplied her own take on the events. "Cliff notes version is: Some bastard demon got me pregnant and I'd rather not have the baby."

Gideon looked taken aback and his own words failed him for a moment. "Yes, it's this way..." He used his arm to indicate a door in the corridor and everyone but Leo walked in that direction. "Leo, who are these people?" He asked, taking Leo's elbow and steering him back in the direction they came, away from the group, his head bent low as if conspiring.

"Well," Leo gave a sheepish grin. "You know Chris? Chris is my son." He caught Gideon's expression. "Yeah, I'm still getting used to that myself..." This was true; he hadn't known how he had felt when Nixa had let slip that little bombshell.

He had been so torn up inside and then to have Chris reject him over Nixa dying – and so violently with so much malice – had really cut him deeply. Not all of that anger was justified. Leo trembled inwardly, thinking about what his future self had done to deserve that kind of punishment and hate.

The Headmaster blinked. "Well... That explains why he came back to save Wyatt and is so determined to do it... And the others?"

"They're from the future too. They were caught up in some kind of vortex that was meant to bring Paige and Chris back home." Leo realized that he needed to grill one of the three for more information on that story, as his knowledge was patchy about it at best.

"More people from the future..." Gideon's expression darkened slightly and he looked troubled. "Leo... this is..." A jingle sounded, echoing towards the high ceiling. Both of the Elders looked skywards. "They want you, my boy. Go. I'll tell your family where you've gone."

"Maybe I should-" Leo began, wanting to stay with the girls in case they needed him. Maybe he could make up for what happened last night...

"The Elders are your calling, Leo, you can't ignore them." Gideon said sternly, insisting and cutting of any of his student's protests.

"Well if you're sure-" Leo felt torn between 'his calling' and his family. What was a man – or an Elder – supposed to do in this situation?

"I am. You must go now." Another jingle sounded. "Leo, they want you." Gideon said again. Leo took one last reluctant look towards the library and then orbed out. Gideon looked at the space his old student had been standing in and shook his head, heading towards the library with a sweep of his black robes.

_**Learning to Tango**_

Ben was curled up on one of the chairs in the library, deeply absorbed in a book. He didn't even notice Gideon stride past him, fanning the crackling and yellowing pages; he just smoothed them down and kept reading, his eyes darting across the text.

Paige and Piper were sitting at opposite ends of one of the work tables, hidden from each other by stacks of tomes. Bridget was standing at a shelf, her head tilted to one side so she could read the spines easier and the top of Chris had apparently vanished between the stacks.

Paige wrinkled her nose and turned a book upside down to see if the diagram made more sense. It didn't. She closed it gently and pushed it to one side, counting herself lucky if she never had to look at it again.

"Hey, Gideon, are you sure some of these books are suitable for the kids? I mean... ew... Aren't there laws on that?"

"What, Paige?" He was distracted, thinking about too many other things at once and not concentrating on the here and now. He looked at the cover of the volume she had been reading. "Oh, I see. Some of the books can adjust their content depending on the age group that picks them up..." He leant on the table. "So tell me, what is it that you're looking for?"

Piper and Paige exchanged looks, and Paige realized that Piper wanted her to tell the Headmaster. Paige sighed inwardly as Piper put her head back into the book and left her sister to explain. "Well, Bridget was kidnapped and the baby isn't hers; I think you got that message back there," She gave a small laugh. "The demon that took her performed the Seven's Oreo ritual-"

"Ossuary, sweetie." Piper corrected gently, turning a page.

"I knew that." Paige said, mentally poking out her tongue at her sister. "Anyway-"

"The Seven's Ossuary?" Gideon sucked in a deep breath and he frowned, a hint of panic in his expression. "That's it; I think you'd better all come with me."

A few minutes later, Paige, Piper, Chris, Ben and Bridget were all in Gideon's office. Piper and Bridget occupied the two chairs in front of Gideon's desk and the Elder had orbed a chair for Paige. He appeared to be composing himself so everyone was quiet and Ben and Chris, who had said that they preferred standing, were leaning against the wall.

All but Ben were watching the older man intently, wondering what he had to say. Ben's eyes were looking around the office, and he caught sight if a large curtain and wondered what it was for. It seemed out of place to him.

The headmaster's office was an odd place, full of weird things. Like the crystal ball on the desk that was doubling as a paperweight. Gideon looked especially foreboding, all in black sitting behind that large desk. He almost looked like he was meditating, so deep was his absorption and Ben had to check that there was nothing on the desktop that Gideon was staring at.

The witch was brought back to reality as Gideon's chair squeaked as the Elder leant backwards and steepled his fingers, a look of profound concentration written across his features still. Bridget began tapping her foot impatiently, looking expectantly at the Headmaster.

"Yeah, hey, hi. Are we gonna talk about my kid?" Bridget said, bored of waiting in silence already. Everyone else but Gideon silently agreed with her, they just didn't have the courage to voice their opinion.

Suddenly, he snapped his fingers and made everyone jump. Bridget pulled a face. She had seen many cheap conjurers but this was scarping the barrel at best... A book thudded to the desk, disturbing a glass of water into a frenzy of ripples.

The headmaster still said nothing, but read the first few lines, seemingly ignoring his guests again, and then closed the book gravely, inhaling and exhaling before dealing out the news. He said slowly, "The baby you're carrying is intended to grow up to be the next Source. This is serious. Something must be done. Wouldn't want the cosmos to stop spinning, would we?"

Both Ben and Chris groaned, closing their eyes. Everyone turned to look at them and they just shrugged sheepishly, exchanging confused looks between themselves.

"Duh." Bridget said, her attitude shining through. "We knew that already."

"Then surely you must know that the baby needs to be destroyed..." Gideon frowned. "We'll make the proper arrangements; you may wish to contact the father..."

"No, no daddy was involved in making this baby." Bridget said. "He was manufactured."

"Then it is even more imperative that he must be killed. That thing is pure evil, not even human. You could shift the balance, wouldn't want that, would we?"

"Oh man..." Ben said, déjà vu beginning to wash over him. It had hit him like a rush of water and blown his legs out from under him. The headache that the coffee had helped to heal had come back with a vengeance.

"What are your problems?" Bridget turned and demanded. "This is about me."

"Never mind." Chris said, kicking Ben's shin. The witch immediately muffled a swear word and glared at Chris. Only Gideon noticed as everyone else had their backs to them.

Gideon cleared his throat, making a mental note to try to find out what the two young witches were up to. "As I was saying... There are some spells I can find and they'll also be some in the library... If you won't think me rude, I'd like to think for a while."

"Of course." Piper said, standing up first. The party left Gideon alone and he fiddled with the blotter, straightening it and orbing the book back to where it had been summoned from by passing his hand over it. Eventually he looked to the ceiling and called, "Sigmund!"

His assistant scuttled into the room, closing the door with a quiet click. "Yes, sir?"

"There's a problem."

"Really, sir?"

"Yes. The baby that young girl is carrying has to be destroyed..." He took an athame from his desk drawer and began spinning it on its point, admiring the glinting steel blade. "And all those people from the future... No regard to the cosmic balance at all, they'll have to go too... And we're going to have to find a way to do that."

_**Learning to Tango**_

"What did you kick me for?" Ben asked as Bridget and two of the Charmed Ones made their way back towards the library.

"Because you were being stupid." Chris replied, turning and leaning against the wall to confront Ben.

"I wasn't! I just had this really bad déjà vu and to be honest it kinda hit me in this huge rush..." He shook his head.

"Wait, what? What was it about?"

"Gideon, all those things he said..." Ben frowned, it seemed like there were a lot of people doing that today.

"You mean like 'wouldn't want the cosmos to stop spinning, would we'?"

Ben laughed and nodded. "Heh, yeah... You know I think I might have dreamed that or something. I don't know."

"Me too. When you were out with whatever it was, right? Demon attack or something?"

"I think so." Ben put his head in his hands and tried to hold the details of the dream clear in his mind. "Yeah, we were in P3... There was a chessboard and Gideon. He wasn't making much sense." The images were rapidly slipping away from him and the more he fought to hold them the fewer he seemed to remember.

"Seriously?"

"Yeah. Then there was this thing about a milkshake and the glass broke... And I don't remember any more, because as soon as the glass broke I woke up. I think Leo was in it too... Maybe your Mom... And then you were muttering something so I woke you up too."

"We had the same dream. Only mine went on for a little longer."

Ben hadn't seen the odd thing with the ring or seen Bridget die and Chris didn't want to elaborate. Having one friend die was bad enough without dreaming about the murders of the rest of your friends.

"So the demon did something to our - I dunno - collective subconscious?" Ben struggled to find the right words to explain the phenomenon.

"Maybe." Ben could tell Chris had jumped on a train of thought, but Bridget called and it crashed into a smoking, shattered wreck.

That sugary sweet voice was always false, never a good sign. "Chris, can I talk to you for a minute?" She asked, and he turned and gulped. Ben just grinned at him and shrugged, mouthed 'good luck' and walked past Chris into the library.

"Yeah?" Chris entered the library just as Ben began to settle himself onto one of the chairs, but Bridget was nowhere to be found.

"Over here, _honey_." Bridget announced, and he spotted a head of black hair in the middle of an unoccupied aisle of shelves. Sighing, he walked over to her, wondering what it was that she wanted.

Through the shelves, he heard Ben strike up small talk with Piper and Phoebe. You knew he was bored if he started doing that. "Bridget, what's wrong?"

Bridget was sitting on a chair with its back to the wall, her legs crossed and her face set to angel mode. "So, tell me. How was it for you the other night?"

Chris immediately paled and subconsciously took a step back. "What do you mean?"

"Well you see, all day, these things have been coming back to me. As the hangover-feeling fades, I think I might start to be remembering some things. Or they're getting less fuzzy anyway. And they're not all pretty things."

She got up and slunk over to him, not breaking eye contact with the panic betraying his emotions in his own eyes. Making people squirm was something she was good at.

"I don't-" He began.

"Oh, come on! You're not that DENSE. You may be male, but you're not _stupid, _Chris!" He blinked and took another step backwards, nearly out of the aisle.

Bridget grabbed a fistful of his jacket and swung him round so Chris now had his back to the wall and she was in the mouth of the aisle, blocking his only exit. Chris looked behind him and realized he had around six steps before he ran out of floor and would be trapped against the wall.

"Ok, Bridget, look..." He began as she started her advance, holding his hands up, palms towards her in his usual gesture of surrender.

How could he be crumbling already? She wasn't even started yet. "I was _drunk_ Chris! I can't believe you!" She yelled shrilly, yanking his hands down to his waist and holding them there, because this display of fear was bugging her.

He used two of his six steps. Four more to go. He'd have to start being more economical with them.

The library, which had been filled with quiet whispering and murmuring and pages turning and books being stacked, fell silent. "Hey!" Bridget yelled to the whole room, turning her back on Chris and waving her hands for emphasis. "Haven't you ever seen an argument before? Mind your own damn business!"

There was a pause and she glared at anyone still giving her eye contact and the noise of books returned – this time only being half-heartedly stacked - and the students put their heads back into their books, their eyes unmoving and their faces grinning.

"Look, Bridget-" Chris tried again, quietly, hoping to diffuse her before she could explode on him. He had a feeling that a room full of teenagers and his mother might not be the best place for her to tell him this.

"I was throwing up and passing out and all you could think about was having _sex_? You're sick, Chris Halliwell. SICK!"

Chris looked mortified as Bridget got right into his face and he had to step backwards again. There wasn't all that much room left now between where he was standing and the wall. "Maybe we shouldn't do this here-"

"Oh, am I embarrassing you, sweetie? Well isn't that a fucking shame? And no, we're doing this right here and right now, got it?"

"You go, girl!" A voice came from behind a shelf, followed by a few smothered giggles.

While Chris was searching for the source of the voice, hoping to strangle it for egging Bridget on, the hunter ploughed onwards with her tirade.

"So, Chris. You know what I don't get?" She asked in a deceptively mellow tone. "When I'm completely pissed out of my head, you want me. But when I'm sober and normal, you want to go and date that slut Bianca? And _marry_ her? What's with that? Did she get drunk and become another notch on your bedpost too; is that what you find attractive? Is that what it takes to get something out of you?" Bridget practically growled, clenching her fists. "So help me, I'm going to kill you!"

"Bridget, come on. We'll do this later, ok?" Chris pleaded, calculating that he had about three steps until he was pinned. Bridget forced him to take another one. Make that two.

"So why did you go for Bianca over me? Is she prettier than me? She's certainly sluttier than me, so you like sluts, right? Do I need to walk around exposing nearly every body part to the world before you'll love me?" She paused. "Or is it that... is it that she's better than me?" Chris saw the tears threatening in her eyes.

"NO! God Bridget... You ran away, remember? You took off with your parents to wherever the hell you went and left me nothing. Nothing. Almost three goddamn years. You didn't leave me a number, an address-"

"Well I'm sorry that I was sick of fighting after what happened, but I mean BIANCA? Were you crazy? Too many potions exploding in your face?! Too many blows to the head? What were you _thinking? _And then she tried to kill you. Well isn't that great, although if you treated her like this, I can't say I blame her in the slightest!"

Chris had begun developing a tick in his jaw. "Wyatt had her under his control. That's not my fault." His eyes were blazing now but Bridget refused to back away from the subject; whereas a wiser and less angry person would have seen the warning signs. "If you really want to know, I was there when Wyatt..." Chris cursed his emotions. "I was there wh- when he killed her. Ok, he killed the woman I was gonna marry! And you're standing there trashing her like a jealous bitch!"

Bridget gaped at him, shock very evident on her face. She raised a hand to slap him, but he grabbed it and she wrenched it free. "Me? A jealous bitch?" Her voice had resumed its screeching tone. "Jealous of your fiancée who helped take out half of my squad?" Bridget chuckled derisively. "The fiancée who 'accidentally' let it slip where our weapons cache was?" She took a step toward him. "She was in league with Wyatt for years, Chris and the whole time you didn't see it."

Chris's anger faltered at this new information, but he wasn't about to press the matter. "I don't want to talk to you any more, Bridget."

"I am so not jealous of her and Chris, don't you walk away from me." She grabbed him as he went to storm past her. "I'm not done with you yet!"

He grabbed the wrist attached to the hand that clamped onto his jacket with bruising force on a normal person, rotating her arm away; his anger flaring once more with determination to fight back. Chris took half a step forward. "Moving on, you tackled me, ok?"

"Oh, really." Wrenching her wrist from his grasp, Bridget stumbled back a few steps in effort to regain her balance. Chris mentally calculated. Two more steps for him, four until the wall.

"You couldn't have tried to stop me, could you?" Bridget said, outraged that he had used that as an excuse. She had been _drunk._ Bridget barely remembered what she had done. How could he use that to justify it? She was furious and her eyes flashed dangerously.

"You're just as strong as me, Get, if not stronger! How does that work?"

This was true. If Bridget took you down, you stayed down, _and_ she knew it. Ha, he had her there. She was trying to think up a response when another student decided to comment.

"Wuss!" The random voice yelled.

"SHUT UP!" Came the reply from both Bridget and Chris. Seething, they turned back to each other.

"I was drunk too, ok? Not as far gone as you, but before I could blink, you'd tied my wrist to the headboard!" She took another step forward then.

"Ah, love..." Ben said, unconcerned. He picked up a book and thumbed through it. Phoebe and Piper looked at him in disbelief and he glanced up with a shrug. "What? You think this is bad? Wait until they start throwing things. They say opposites attract but opposites also spark off some pretty big fights too. Which, come to think of it, might be due to all the unresolved sexual tension that's been building for years." He turned the book upside down. "Ew..."

"Oh, so it's my fault we had sex? Don't try to pin this on me, bud, it takes two to tango, you know!" Bridget yelled, going red in the face. Chris lost his ground as Bridget stepped forward two steps and he stepped backwards the same amount. Two more until the wall – it wasn't looking good.

"Only two to tango?" Ben repeated, sounding mildly surprised as he cocked his head at a different angle, trying to make sense of the book. "Knowing Bridget, I would have thought more... Does anyone actually know what this is a picture of?"

"You know what? I'm just going to say yes to that, because you'll yell at me, whatever the hell I say, so yes." He started moving forward, sending the younger girl back-pedalling several steps. "Yes, it's your own fucking fault. Everything is. You're just going to keep on yelling because you think you're so right, you-"

"I am! You're supposed to be the guy, you could have stopped it! Maybe you could have _noticed_ that I was out of my head drunk!"

She hurled some kind of glass orb at Chris and he instinctively froze it, grabbing it out of the air and slamming it down onto one of the shelves hard enough for it to crack. Bridget had gone from red to slightly purple right now and her breaths were rattling inwards.

"See what they put me through? I guess it's too late to tell you that you should have hidden anything expensive..." Ben said, setting the book down. Paige cocked an eyebrow at him and Piper looked baffled. His only response was to shrug again.

"Oh. Wait, I forgot. You _were_ being the guy, that's why you didn't stop it. You _wanted_ me to get into your pants!" Chris looked at her in disbelief, but the affect was ruined as finally got to the wall. She had forced him to retreat until he had nowhere further to go. "And because you were being a guy, I, as in me, Bridget, got pregnant. And stop being such a coward!" He had his hands up again and she took a swing at him, knocking him over the chair that Bridget had previously occupied.

"Dammit, you know what? I tried to stop you, but you had me tied up and were on top of me before I could blink!" There were very few people in the vicinity that didn't pull a face at that last comment.

There, one step away from the wall. He could win this thing back.

Ben frowned disapprovingly at them. "Okay. Now its just pride fighting." He looked at the two sisters. "I'm putting my money on Chris for this one."

"Then... then you're a slow blinker, ok? Fuck you, Chris, just fuck you."

"You already did, you stupid bitch. How else did you get knocked up?"

"Mind your own fucking business! And watch your damn language!" Bridget screamed, looking around the library, glaring daggers at anyone daring to be looking at them. "I hate you!" She grabbed a book and threw it at Chris, but she missed and its spine broke against the wall. Then she grabbed another one and threw it at him again. "I hate you!" Chris was prepared this time and sent it skidding harmlessly onto an end table. "I hate you!" She yelled.

"Is it too late to shift my money to Bridget?"

Bridget then did something that no one – above all herself – had expected and began to cry. "I fucking hate you..." Slowly, tears made her way down her face and she grabbed another book, throwing it and it missed Chris by a mile.

"Hey, Come on." Chris said gently, melting at the sight of her tears. Bridget didn't cry. This was so unusual for her it was almost scary. He walked towards her slowly and she half-heartedly began to hit him on the chest, continuing her mumblings of 'I hate you'. Chris winced as she hit one of his bruises.

"Stupid hormones. I can't hit someone with a book properly." Chris began to methodically wipe her tears away; looking at her with such hurt in his eyes that Bridget felt her own anger begin to dissolve.

"Look, I'm really sorry, ok? I am. I'm sorry for dragging you guys here. I'm sorry about you getting snatched at the demon... We - I made a mistake." He admitted at last. She had already exploded and it was too late to diffuse her now, but he could still try and do cleanup duties post the blast.

Bridget looked into the green irises with longing. "No, you were right to start with. We made the mistake, together, ok? Our fault. But that's all going to be fixed, ok?" She paused. "Oh my God, who am I kidding? Our baby's evil!"

"Well maybe he's not evil. Maybe he's just having a really bad day." Bridget gave him a condescending look and then laughed, shaking her head and swiping a hand across her eyes. "If it helps, I'm sorry I got your pregnant."

"And I'm sorry I tackled you and tied your wrist to the headboard." She rested her head on his chest and fiddled with a button on his jacket as he smoothed her hair and wrapped his arms around her.

"Better now?" Chris asked tentatively and she pouted, but nodded.

"Yes." She buried her face in the warmth of his shirt. "But if you do something like this again, I'm going to castrate you or something, ok?"

"Ouch... I think she might actually follow through on that threat..." Ben said, watching the argument cool rapidly before his eyes and wincing sympathetically with Chris's situation. The surrounding vicinity now appeared safe again for fragile objects that were commonly used as missiles and it was as if the room let out a collective breath.

Then, "It's over? Come on, I wanted to see the fat chick kick his ass!"

"Uh-oh." Ben said. Bridget was so gonna pummel that kid. He really didn't know what was coming, did he? He hoped that the student had a good insurance policy because boy was he going to need it...

"Did you... Did you hear that?" Bridget said incredulously. "He called me fat... Right! Which one of you spotty little children was that? I'm not fat, I'm PREGNANT!" Bridget wasn't aware of it, but a fireball appeared in her hand, crackling and blazing orange. "Come on then! Who?"

"Bridget..."

She rounded on Chris again. "What?" She caught sight of the ball of flame in her hand and watched it revolve. "Interesting..." She blinked and then turned around again. "Now... If one of you freaks doesn't own up, I'm going to toast you all, you got that?"

"Uh..." She silenced Chris with a glare. Chris was slightly comforted by the fact that this was magic school, and that no one could die here. But with Bridget wielding demonic powers, he wasn't completely sure how that rule would work out for the poor kid, or kids, that got blasted. He shrugged.

"It was him."

"Thanks a lot, dude." The guy shoved forwards was someone Paige recognized from her short-lived role as a teacher. It was Slick.

"If that boy could keep out of trouble for just a day he could really get his grades up." Paige muttered.

"Oh my, shouldn't we be stopping this?" Piper asked.

Paige put her arm around Piper's shoulders. "That's all up to you with the freezing power, isn't it?"

"But... But... I can't! I'm gonna be a grandma! Oh God, I'm not old enough... Do I look old enough?" Piper began hyperventilating.

"No, not now. Mental breakdowns are for later. Shush, you might wanna focus." Paige suggested lightly.

"You're fried." Bridget snarled, drawing back her arm.

"Come on, lady, it was just a bit of fun. You don't wanna hurt me." Bridget threw the fireball and immediately the room froze with the flaming weapon halfway between Bridget and Slick.

"Nice job, Piper." Paige complimented. Then she paused. "Wait... Did you freeze Chris? Can you even do that?"

"No, that was me, I'm afraid, Paige." Paige, Piper and Ben turned to see Gideon striding towards them from the doorway. "I was rather concerned that this whole thing might be upsetting the students."

"Well... no, I think it's upsetting Piper more." Paige said. Her sister had just taken a compact from a frozen girl's hand and was pushing her hair this way and that with her fingertips. Poor Piper. Perhaps this was a sign of her brain not being able to process all these surprises.

"Can you see any grey hairs? Because Grams went grey pretty early on and Prue always said I was most like her..."

"Piper, the girl's gonna want to line her other eye when she's unfrozen." Paige informed the oldest Halliwell. Piper looked down at the teenager who had an eye pencil poised ready.

"She can wait." She said dismissively, now checking neurotically for crow's feet by stretching the skin.

"Well, I must say, Gideon, that you have one bad ass freezing power." Paige said, turning away from her sister.

"Thank you Paige."

"Do you realize that I've been wanting to do that for probably more than eight years?" Ben said. "I mean all, they do is bicker, make up, hang out and then fight some more... There was one time Bridget had Chris in this servitude thing... Wait... I was in that too..." Ben shook his head. "But, the point is that at this rate I'll be going grey before Piper does..." Piper didn't notice the comment, something Paige knew Ben should be thankful for. "Hey, dude, speaking of grey hairs, you have one just there." Ben told Gideon, pointing to his own temple to indicate the spot. Gideon gave him one withering glance and passed his hand vaguely in Ben's direction, freezing the witch in place.

"Oh my, Young people today." Gideon said heavily, rubbing his forehead and closing his eyes.

"What? You said 'young people today', right? So you don't think we're young? You mean I'm not young anymore?" Piper put the mirror closer to her face and pushed a bag under an eye with her finger. "Oh, maybe I do look like a grandma."

Paige crossed the room with several quick strides, snatched the mirror from her sister, snapped the compact shut and tossed it back down onto the girl's lap. "Piper! Will you please just shut up! You look fabulous. Really. Ok, just so you know worrying about things gives you wrinkles so just straighten your forehead out right now and breathe. Yes. Breathe and let it go..." She looked at Gideon. "Man, you know the situation is desperate when I'm the only one who keeps my head..."

"I think you'll find these sufficient, Paige." Gideon said, waving his hand in her direction. A stack of books materialized in her arms and made her knees buckle and she tipped them all onto the table.

"More than sufficient, thanks, Gideon." She said, blowing hair out of her face. "Whew!"

"Would you mind taking them all home, Paige; the students have had far too much excitement for one day."

"And we're really sorry about that," Paige said. "Dammit, Piper!" She orbed the compact into her hand and set it down on the table, without turning round.

"Hey! I wasn't done with that..."

"Yes you were. Now help me with these, will ya?"

"Paige, I'm not a packhorse..."

Paige sighed heavily. "Gideon, would you mind, you know?" He twinkled his fingers and the books orbed out. "Oh thank you so much... Right, ok... Bridget and Chris... Ben..." The three of them orbed into either her or Piper's grasp. "And fireball..." Mid-orb Gideon clapped and the orbs died.

"Thanks for the books, Gideon." Piper said, taking hold of Piper, Chris and Ben. Piper took Bridget with her free hand.

"They won't be a fine for late returns, will there?" Paige said with a slight laugh as she disappeared.

"Will those books help them, sir?" Sigmund asked, appearing from around the doorframe.

"Oh no... They'll find nothing of use in those." Gideon said, a smile twisting his face as he made his athame appear and tested the balance. "There aren't many things that will kill that baby now..."

_**  
Learning to Tango**_

"There's something here..." Ben said, shifting the lamp nearer to the edge of its table to cast a better pool of light on the book. The attic glowed with the luminescence of various bulbs and everyone had been assigned a couple of books each, all except Bridget, who was napping, and Leo, who hadn't returned from the Elders.

"Is there?" Phoebe said dejectedly, adjusting her glasses. Then, "Are you sure these are the right books?"

"No, Phoebe, the mailman left them on the foyer table for us," Paige said, her sarcasm enough to wound Phoebe, if only superficially.

"Well there doesn't seem to be anything useful in here!" The middle witch snapped back, frustrated, slamming the book closed and tossing her glasses onto the couch next to her. She gave a frustrated growl before rubbing her head and her eyes.

"I think I found something," Ben repeated, marking his point on the page with his finger so he could look up without loosing his place.

"Where?" Chris asked, tuning out Phoebe and Paige's bickering. Chris had been ruthlessly searching for the past hour, snapping at them every so often. His short-temper and the fact that he was easily irritable were understandable. He had just found out that he had managed to get one of his best friends pregnant and that his future son was evil because of some stupid ritual that he had never heard of before the day before Bridget was taken. Like he didn't already have to deal with evil family members.

"Yeah, where?" Piper asked, walking over. Anything that relieved the boredom and helplessness she was feeling now would help. Everything was turning up blanks or dead ends; everywhere they turned there was a new brick wall to stop them. She had thought that maybe Gideon _had_ given them the wrong books, but now there was something, so Phoebe was wrong. This was good because she didn't want to be the one who was wrong, not this time. It was someone else's turn for that.

"It's like a siphoning spell or something..." Ben said vaguely, moving his finger to let Piper see. She was leaning over his shoulder now and her hair came loose and tumbled onto the page. She swept it angrily back behind her ear.

"That's not much help to us, sweetie..." She said gently, although her voice was frayed and some of the impatience shone through. They had been searching for so long, and this was the best they could come up with? She could be asleep right now, maybe with a jar of previously full anti-wrinkle night cream sitting half-empty on her nightstand. And cucumbers. People in salons always got cucumber slices for their eyes. Maybe some green face pack gunk. That would help too. Anything to stop her looking like a grandmother before her time.

"It is, because we can siphon off the kid's powers into someone else..." Ben said, putting his finger back on the page again and running it down a column, skimming the information over.

"Any volunteers?" Paige asked dryly, her argument with Phoebe finished. Her hope at having found something was fading fast. There wasn't going to be anyone who wanted that kind of evil power in them. There weren't many people that could control that amount of power. They packed a punch as the Charmed Ones but she knew first hand the power of the Source, and it scared her, and apparently that kid had all of that.

"Oh... Well I thought it was a good idea..." Ben said as his shoulders slumped. He pulled a face and reached out to turn the page when Piper suddenly slammed her hand down on the book and made him jump.

"No, no, no!" She said, obviously having a brainwave. "What if we summon a demon, give it the kid's powers and then..." She gestured as if she was going to blow something up, "Kaboom!"

"You know... that might just work..." Chris said, sounding impressed and relieved at the same time. Finally, here was progress, a way of moving forward and actually _doing_ something.

"Ok, I'll get the crystals!" Phoebe called dibs on the job immediately and took the three or so steps to the cabinet with the crystals in, balancing the box as she closed the door. "I'm done." She sat back down and rested the back of her had on the top of the couch. "Mm..."

She was dog-tired and had a headache from looking at her monitor all day. And she knew she was an advice columnist but by Gods those people had problems. To be honest she was beginning not to want to know anymore, but Ask Phoebe was so damn popular that she had to keep it up, especially with Paige only doing temp jobs and Piper about to stop work at the club for her maternity leave in a few months time... Well at least they were all forewarned this time, courtesy of the baby himself.

"There's a purple potion in that cabinet too. The exploding one..." Piper said and Paige grabbed three vials off of the top shelf and tossed one to Chris and Piper, sliding the third into her pocket for herself.

"Um... Who's going to wake Bridget up?"

"Someone with an exploding potion," Ben said promptly. Bridget was dangerous when woken from sleeping, and hormonal Bridget was going to be thermonuclear when she was roused. Glad Paige hadn't given him a potion he said, "See you later, Chris." And grinned at his friend.

Chris rolled his eyes and left the room, and they heard him cross the landing downstairs before turning back to plan their battle stations.

Chris waked through the dim hall downstairs and pushed open the door into the darkened room. The yellow light of a streetlamp cut across the rumpled and most definitely empty bed. A pillow was on the floor and the sheets were creased, with the comforter pushed right down to the end of the mattress.

"Bridget?" Chris called, walking through the room. The bathroom door was ajar and he could see that it was dark inside – she was not there.

Where was she? The bed looked slightly slept in but Bridget wasn't in it. Had something happened to her? His throat felt dry and his pulse quickened slightly. He turned and walked back out the door and down the upstairs hall, looking in all of the rooms as he went, panic building when he saw that they were empty.

What had happened to her? Was it something demonic? Had she stopped being able to defend herself because of her baby? His heart thudded still faster as guilt overtook panic. Technically the baby was his fault, and if she'd been taken because of it...

His eyes caught movement but it was just the curtains hanging at the balcony door flapping in the wind. The French windows were open and Chris could feel a cool breeze blowing down the corridor, enough to stir the hairs on his arms to stand slightly on end.

Chris licked his lips and walked over to the doors, looking out. Bridget wouldn't have done anything stupid, would she? He thought she was over the anger and the fear by venting it all. Ok, it had been on him but if it stopped her doing something idiotic then...

He gulped, seeing Bridget sitting on the low wall, bringing back memories of a Bridget with a tear-streaked face standing on a very different type of ledge.

"Bridget?"

"Yeah?"

"What are you doing?" He walked slowly closer to her but she kept her back to him, blocking him out.

"Afraid I might leap off?" She gave a cruel snort of laughter but still wouldn't face him.

"No, I just wondered where you were, that's all." Chris felt bad lying to her, but telling her that he was worried that she might have been about to jump wasn't the way to go – Bridget hated people second-guessing her actions before she'd had chance to think them through herself properly.

He could see her cheek twitch and he assumed she was giving the night a wry smile. "Ah, feeling guilty?" She asked.

"No," Chris lied, although he was and had been. "Wait - that was a trick question, right? Yes." He shook his head. "I don't know?"

"You don't have a clue, do you?" Bridget said, with another, slightly happier laugh. Chris could almost see her in his head, rolling her eyes. He didn't need to see her face to tell what she would be doing.

"Is this another trick question?" He asked, suddenly sounding confused. This was just one big mystery after another. He wasn't sure what Bridget wanted him to say.

"Maybe. Now what do you want?" She hopped down off of the ledge and shuffled over to him. Her eyes were puffy and he wondered if she's been crying again or was just tired.

The folded up Kleenex scrunched in her palm was all the explanation he needed. She looked down and used her finger to poke the corners of the white tissue back into her fist, rendering it invisible. Chris pretended that he hadn't seen. He cleared his throat, trying to remember what it was he had to say.

"Well it's not so much me as them. They want you in the attic."

"Then lead the way... I'll be up as soon as I've rested halfway there..."

_**Learning to Tango**_

Paige looked at Phoebe, who still had her eyes closed, and threw a crystal at Ben. He fumbled with it before catching it.

"Hey, I wasn't ready!" Paige cocked an eyebrow at him and he looked to the floor, placing his crystal on the boards and kicking the rug out of the way. "Who are we summoning?" He asked, changing the subject from his poor skills in catching.

"The nearest low level demon," Piper said, flipping through the pages of the Book of Shadows for ideas on the summoning spell. She knew Phoebe was tired, and that she had worked long and hard today but she could at least do _something_. Piper's mind wasn't on rhyming; it was on crow's feet and laughter lines.

"Are you sure you're putting that spell together right?" Phoebe asked, opening an eye.

'_Ah, it lives...' _Piper thought bitterly, looking up

"You could come and do it if you could be bothered to move, Pheebs."

"Sorry... Not happening for a while..."

Piper bit on the inside of her cheek to keep back a retort and continued scribbling on her pad as Phoebe closed her eyes again. She scribbled the last word with flourish and put the pen back on the stand next to the paper they kept there.

They started a checklist, running it through. Summoning a demon instead of letting them drop in randomly was something that required great thought and planning, and they had to be prepared.

"Spell's done," she announced happily. It might not be a Phoebe-worthy masterpiece but it would do its job, she was sure of that. Well, sort of sure. She hoped it would do its job.

"Cage is ready," Paige called back, still crouched, ready to pounce and slam down the crystal.

"So is Bridget," Chris told them, climbing up to the attic and joining in the list. Bridget was the last thing they needed to get the show on the road.

When she didn't appear Ben asked, "Where is she?" He looked behind Chris at the empty stairs.

"Coming!" Was the reply from somewhere downstairs.

Bridget was taking the time to dry her eyes again and stuff the tissue in her pocket so it didn't betray her emotions to everyone else as it had done to Chris. Finally she composed her features and looked up the attic stairs.

Piper paused and began to absently fold the corners of the paper. As soon as she noticed what she was doing she announced, "Well I'm going to get started..." She wanted to try out her spell. She liked it, whatever Phoebe thought of it.

"_I call upon the Halliwell line,_

And ask them all to help me find 

_A low-level demon that can be_

_Vanquished without the Power of Three," _she recited, waiting for results.

"That was your master spell?" Phoebe said, opening an eye again and giving Piper an odd, almost condescending, look.

"Well if you can do better you try next time, ok?" Piper said, sighing irritably. All she'd done was sit on her ass; she had no right to complain about shoddy rhyming. With a shower of tiny flaming rocks a demon appeared and Paige placed the last crystal down, standing up and dusting her hands off.

"Bridget, you're not _that_ pregnant," Ben said, rolling his eyes and turning his back on the demon to call out the door.

"Where am I?" The demon asked, staring around the room. He tested the cage with a long claw and got shocked. He growled, withdrawing his hand sharply.

"Oh really? You want me to come up there and find a way for you to try this thing out?"

"Uh... Well I'd like you to come up here..." Ben said slowly. "We'll talk about the other part then, ok?"

"You're so funny!" Bridget called, the sarcasm dripping from her voice enough to fill several storm drains. She began to make her way up the stairs.

"I know. Glad you noticed!" He shouted back, giving a small laugh. "It will always make her hurry if she gets to hit me when it's over," he explained to the Charmed Ones, before turning back to the stairs. Bridget was soon coming through the door and sure enough she hit him on the shoulder as soon as she could reach.

"Ooh! Demon..." Her face lit up and she took a step closer, peering at it as if it were a fascinating discovery. "Can I kill it? Can I? Please?" She looked to them as if she were a small girl who wanted to keep the kitten that had wandered into her yard, or wanting to open the presents under the tree early.

"Not yet," Chris told her, watching her pout and flop onto a chair.

"What about... now?"

"We're going to give it the baby's powers," Piper explained to stop Bridget asking over and over if she could kill the demon.

"You're all gonna die, witches!" The demon snarled. He was ignored or went unheard.

"Won't that make the demon like, really, really powerful? As in Source powerful?" She put a hand to her stomach without noticing.

"Well, technically yes, but..."

"No offence, guys, but I don't think it's a good idea giving a demon that much power..." Bridget looked troubled and the witches began to wonder if their plan had one or two major flaws. Flaws the size of manholes, perhaps.

And what if something went wrong? Could it hurt the baby? And what if, after the demon got all those powers, he went and killed them all? She wasn't sure that they were assessing the risks properly, and this was her talking, one of the biggest risk-takers she knew.

"We're gonna kill it afterwards," Piper said, brandishing her potion. "See?"

Bridget still looked sceptical. "Well you're the witches..."

"This is her way of saying 'on your heads be it'," Chris informed them with a slight smile.

"I warned you," the demon threatened.

"And we heard already!" Piper snapped back. "Paige, poke Phoebe."

The witch-whitelighter did as she was told and the middle sister groaned and sat up. "What?"

"Spell." Piper said, impatient. Phoebe had been half-asleep, not even concentrating on her surroundings.

Ben handed them the book and stepped back to let them do their work, watching the sisters bend over the page. He didn't know if even the Charmed Ones could pull off this kind of magic, but then he'd very rarely seen them in full action. They might be able to do it; it depended on how much power the baby had already accumulated from Bridget and from the ritual.

"So we're only calling for some divine goddess help now? What about when we might actually have needed it?" Paige griped, starting to recite the words with her sisters.

"_Goddess Hecate I call upon thee,_

_To hear my words, to come to me._

_Channel these powers, take them now._

_Transfer to thee."_

The chanting filled the attic room, and the three felt their hair shift as a current of air passed over them. Chris jumped out of the way as it dislodged a lamp and knocked it to the floor in a spray of sparks.

The Charmed Ones began repeating the spell, their words ominous and foreboding as the air became close and pressured in the room. Paige could feel her hair standing on end with the electric power that their words were providing. The last time she had felt like this she had been calling upon the Halliwell matriarchs to help vanquish the Source.

The end table the lamp had been on fell over too and Ben stepped out of the way. Bridget was sitting up in her chair, her eyes glazed over, breathing faster as every word the Charmed Ones spoke became louder and louder until it filled their ears.

"Stop!" Chris yelled suddenly as a bolt of lightning emerged from Bridget's stomach and surrounded the three chanting witches with a crackling blue-silver cage. The power intensified as the words became stronger and Chris went over to his family. "I said stop! You've got to stop this!" A miniature bolt hit him in the stomach and blew him into the air and over the back of a chair.

The baby Bridget was carrying was a Halliwell, and now it was between the Charmed Ones and a Halliwell with the power of a Source behind it. Chris didn't know what would happen if you pitted a family against each other like that, fighting your own bloodline could end up with dire consequences.

"Look at Bridget..." Ben almost whispered, his throat dry as the very air began to sing and scream with the raw energy pulsating through the room. Chris got up off of the floor and righted the chair, looking in Ben's direction.

His friend was standing transfixed, looking into the Hunter's eyes, his mouth slightly open in fear. Chris swallowed, wanting to step towards her but finding he couldn't make his legs move.

Bridget's eyes were completely black and she was gasping for air. As they watched, she reached out for the electricity and grabbed it with her right hand and twisted viciously, tugging at the ties binding her to the Charmed Ones.

The cage around them faltered and Bridget used both hands to manipulate the energy. Chris and Ben could smell the searing flesh from where they were and it was a stomach-churning stench.

Suddenly, the lightning snapped and the cage disappeared with a sudden flash. Bridget was holding two fireballs when the flash died. She threw the first one at the book, which burst into a violent blaze of crackling flames, forcing Paige to shove it off of her lap and hurriedly onto the floor. Bridget reloaded and threw one fiery orb at the Charmed Ones.

Paige orbed her and her sisters out and the fireball hit the couch, giving a scared squeak. As she re-materialized beside Chris and Ben, Piper groaned.

"There's only so much abuse the Halliwell furniture can take, you know?" She said with a sigh, looking at the now-trashed upholstery that had been only recently repaired. There weren't many more places around that would fix their things any more without getting suspicious as to why any furniture in their home ended up burnt or broken.

"Fire extinguisher!" Paige called, orbing the red appliance into her hands from the corner of the room and setting a white cloud on the flaming book. Piper kept one in every single room in the Manor, downstairs in some rooms there were two. Her motto of the past two years had become 'forewarned is forearmed' and she was forever putting out fires with them to prove to anyone who was watching their usefulness.

Bridget threw her next fireball at Ben, which threw him into the wall beside the door with a cracking of timber and a cloud of dust. The hunter's next target was the Charmed Ones again, but the extinguisher orbed out and hit her round the face before she could aim.

Bridget's head snapped back and she staggered, but in one fluid movement her neck turned back around. Her weapon streaked away without guidance and smashed a hole through the attic wall big enough to drive the Halliwell SUV through.

Piper gaped, outraged, and flicked her hands at Bridget. She froze momentarily – long enough for them all to give a collective sigh of relief – before twisting her torso in slow-motion. She sprang back to live, tossing a fireball at Paige.

"I said you'd be sorry, WITCHES!" The demon yelled from his cage. It was at this point a further eleven demons chose to shimmer into the attic.

"Demons sure know how to choose a bad time, don't they?" Paige asked, throwing Bridget's fireball at one in a cloud of orbs and killing it. She heard someone groan but she couldn't tell who it was.

"You couldn't have waited until later, could you? I mean what did you do, bring your whole order or something?" Ben moaned, sending one back to hell with a fiery blast. He heaved himself up from the floor, brushing plaster dust out of his hair.

Seeing two more fireballs going the girls' way, Chris deflected them both at the various demons in the room, vanquishing all that they hit. He could see how powerful the fireballs were, and he wouldn't want to get in the way of one.

He could see only one demon left when an energy ball hit him from behind. As he went down he hit his head on the fallen end table, sending dizzying waves of pain through his skull. His vision started to tunnel as he fought unconsciousness and the demon that had hit him blew apart, although whether it was from Bridget, his Mom or Ben he couldn't tell anymore.

"You ok, Chris?" Ben asked, kneeling next to his friend and finding a bleeding gash on his forehead. He looked up to see a demon standing over him with an energy ball and a grin. "Great... Just great..." Bits of his molecules quickly scattered with a flick of Piper's hands.

"How's Chris?"

"Out cold," Ben replied. "But he's had wor- Piper, watch it!" She turned too late and he flamed a fireball, which knocked it off course and into his side. It blasted him sideways and into a pile of junk including two dining room chairs that had matched the dining room table when Grams had been a little girl and a typewriter.

"Were these chairs antique or something?" Ben winced. "Cuz they looked expensive..."

"Why - isn't – she – hitting Chris?" Paige asked, grunting out her words as she dodged fireballs and orbed them away from her. Bridget hadn't once aimed for Chris yet.

"Well I think this is the baby doing this, and the baby must like his daddy..." Ben voiced his opinion; glad he was wearing a jacket when he saw jagged splinters sticking out of the thick material from the broken chair.

He froze another demon solid and Paige shattered him with the extinguisher, which was fast becoming her favourite weapon in the fight. Piper blew another demon up with one hand and froze a fireball with the other, ducking under the fireball and reanimating it so it blasted a rocker into several different flaming pieces. Paige remembered her potion and threw it, killing a demon. Piper did likewise, blasting it with her power for good measure.

They were slowly gaining the upper hand in the battle, all except for Bridget who didn't seem to have her loyalties correct. She was blasting any demons that tried to hurt her or anyone else in the room, but she was blasting the Charmed Ones as well for trying to take away the baby's powers.

"Crystals, circle!" Paige called, tired of orbing out of the way of fireballs. She blew hair out of her face in relief as Bridget became entrapped, and she threw the last fireball into a demon, vanquishing it. The cage trapped Bridget, but the disappearance of its confines set demon free but he shimmered out, leaving the bookcase behind him to turn into a block of ice.

"Damn, I missed..." Ben said, getting up from the wreckage of the chairs. "Whoa."

The demon was behind him, a rough arm around the witch's throat and a knife at Ben's neck, twisting both of the man's arms behind his back with a scaly, long-clawed free hand and rendering his powers useless.

"I want to know what it is that you witches have got going on here and I want to know it now, or ice boy here dies, ok?" He pressed the blade to Ben's neck and drew a line of blood to emphasize his point.

The steel bit too deeply for Ben's liking at the end of the cut, and he went limp and as he reappeared in a blur of red he heard one if not both of his shoulders tear out with the sudden weight. Grimacing he picked up a broken chair leg and rammed it through the demon's back, poking his real back with the tip of the make-shift stake. The demon crumbled to dust. His body fell to the floor and he winced again before disappearing, waking up to find that his neck had been nicked quite deeply by the athame and his left shoulder had popped out.

He looked up at the Charmed Ones, who were still being glared at by Bridget. But the black-eyes hunter couldn't do a thing from inside her prison. Paige was putting all of her weight on one leg and holding together a cut arm with her hand. Piper seemed relatively unscathed apart from a tear in her shirt and a graze on her cheek, and Phoebe was sitting down on the couch, her shoe in one hand and the snapped heel in the other, mentally adding up the cost.

Ben put one hand on his useless arm and shoved upwards, the ball and socket joint popping back into place with screaming pain and a dizzying bout of nausea. He'd probably torn some of the tendons as well. If he could swallow his pride long enough to get Leo to look at it he could save himself a good few weeks of pain. Unfortunately he wasn't sure if he could do that.

"What's wrong with Chris?" Paige asked, limping to the couch and licking her fingers, pinching out the last glowing ember. On the floor Chris tossed and turned.

She had seen him like this a couple of times, in one he'd had his powers stolen by Bianca, the other he'd been shot trying to save them from their desire worlds. The witch-whitelighter looked concernedly down at her nephew.

"Do you think he's dreaming?" Phoebe asked, setting her shoe aside and looking down at him as well.

Piper was the one who knelt next to him and smoothed back his hair, and saw that he looked hot. She struggled with his jacket until Paige orbed it into her sister's arms. Piper immediately propped it under his neck.

"He'll be ok, right? It looks like he's just dreaming..." Piper said, although she couldn't hide the concern in her voice.

"Not another one," Ben groaned. "Those are nothing but trouble, trust me."

_**Learning to Tango**_

**Right, here we are. If you're still alive after the length of that I want to say my thanks to:**

**Claddagh Ring: - 12 days... Not bad considering the length of the chapter, lol. Thanks for reviewing I'm glad you liked the Chris/Leo fighting and I'm sorry about school... Ugh... I go back a week today, scary stuff. It's my last year...**

**Dark Fires: - Lol, good. Thanks a lot.**

**Crimson Amber: - :: Tilts head : Maybe yes, maybe no. You'll have to keep reading and find out, lol. That's all I'm saying here. :: Zips mouth :: Thanks a lot for reviewing.**

**Rafiki: - Lol, sorry. Maybe another time, ok?**

**Pixie Wildfire: I hurried, I hurried! Lol, thanks.**

**Dominique1: - Lol! I think your friends might be right, very right, lol. Yeah, I think it should have happened more too. Ah, the world of fic. Great what you can do, huh? Was ten days quick enough for you?**

**Cherry7up56: - Lol, thanks a lot.**

**Charmed Amber: - I think we're finally getting Broadband soon... Ugh, thank Gods for that I need speed!**

**And there you have it, review if you've got here without dying.**

**DISCLAIMER: The author recommended a beverage of your choice and is in no way responsible for the death of his readers. **

**Lol, joking.**

**Latah,**

**Twisted Flame**


	4. Chapter 4

**Not only was the last chapter incredibly long, it was also a very long time ago, for which I apologize. Now, to bring you up to speed:**

_**Previously in Learning to Tango...**_

_**Bridget is pregnant and the baby she is carrying is a result of a drunken night with Chris. This was a revelation unveiled to the whole of Magic School's library, sending Piper into grandma neurosis and leaving Bridget wielding some pretty hefty demonic powers. Not good.**_

_**Gideon knows that the only way to kill the baby is to kill its host. He gave the gang some books he thought wouldn't help.**_

_**The books did help – sort of. They found a spell that would transfer the baby's powers to another body, and they were going to give the powers to a demon before killing said demon.**_

_**However the baby had other plans and started trying to destroy the ones taking his powers. They were all then caught up in a war with the clan of the demon they captured to give the powers to.**_

_**Chris is hurt, unconscious and dreaming.**_

_**Learning to Tango**_

Chris sat dejectedly on a rock, watching as Cody Harris kicked another Grand Slam and was proudly running bases. You know, ever since Cody had moved here from 'Los Angels' (which he didn't believe for ONE second, because Cody couldn't even pronounce it correctly), he had slowly been taking HIS spot on the kickball team. Chris sighed, watching the multi-coloured rubber ball soar skywards.

Who did he think he was, taking Chris's captain hood on the team just because he struck out two times in a row? It wasn't his fault his ankle hurt a little from the demon attack at the manor the night before, one that had got him thrown halfway down the attic stairs. He tugged at his sock and saw the slightly blue ankle encased in its sneaker and sighed. It wasn't his fault his dad wasn't able to come for healing.

Like he believed that for a second. He was 8 years old and even if he wasn't doing too good in science like Miss Elburn told his mother, he wasn't stupid.

Getting up and shoving his fists in the pockets of his denim shorts, Chris skulked away from the kickball field and onto the blacktop. Maybe he could find an empty swing to sit on, or oh! He could play tetherball. He was really good in that. Pausing briefly to return Lindsey Collins's wave, Chris plodded down the five steps to the play area.

It had been built last year and was positively enormous, with huge levels to climb up and five slides. And none of those nasty wood chips littered the ground, or sand. The school had been able to get enough money to put in this nice padding, like they had in the rec centre. Chris had heard the nurse talking to the principal about how many fewer plasters she had been given out recently. It was true, the padding was great to jump and land on.

Chris sighed again. As luck would have it, all of the 10 swings were occupied and he really didn't feel like climbing up to the top to slide down, especially when there were already five people arguing up there about who would get to go first. Chris's shoulders slumped and he picked up an ant, letting it crawl across his hand.

The witch-whitelighter couldn't identify, even if you asked him years later, what made him suddenly stand up and climb back up to the blacktop, because he himself didn't know. Maybe it was because he'd accidentally squished the ant. He knew that his father probably would've said that it was his fate and destiny, but then again, his father walked around in a ugly yellow robe and talked about being 'blessed be', which he could only accept from his Grams.

But back to the point. The point was, was that when Chris hopped onto the blacktop, he found one of the boys in his class running around as if hell hounds were chasing him (those things were nasty and ugly and gross and Chris despised them, mainly because they had made his mother tread on and squash one of his favourite toy cars). Chris looked to see what was chasing him. It couldn't be demonic, because no one else was screaming or being eaten.

As the boy rounded the corner Chris saw who was chasing him. Okay, so maybe the thing that WAS running after him could be considered demonic. Jack Roper was the biggest kid in their grade (and supposedly had flunked TWICE, which would explain the rumour of back hair) and you really didn't want to get in his bad graces. You really didn't want to let on that you got more lunch money than him either.

Behind him were his two cronies (that was Aunt Paige's word, and never failed in confusing his peers), Luke Patterson and Danny Horne. And the boy they were chasing... Chris frowned and stood on tiptoe to see. It was Ben Olsen.

Chris seethed. That was one of HIS friends. Okay, so he and Ben didn't hang out everyday or anything like that, but they got along pretty well. They both got an A on their English project two weeks ago, when they'd been partnered up.

Ben was funny, and had an... interesting vocabulary due to three older brothers. It was almost as good as the choice words his Aunt Paige dropped around. He didn't know exactly what they meant, but his mother made a huge fuss over them, so they must be good words. Well, good to use anyway. And doing the only thing he could think of to help his friend was to run over to him and see if he could help.

So he did.

"Hey, Jack!" The three bullies turned towards him and he gulped. "Um... Your brother is so dumb; he stared at the orange juice carton because it said concentrate!"

They all blinked and stopped moving. That was one of the jokes his Aunt Paige had to endure after she dyed her hair blonde. They didn't appear to get it, though. If truth me told Chris didn't really get it either.

"What about my mom?"

"He said 'brother', you inbred," Ben countered.

"That's enough of your smart... ness Olsen!"

"Because you don't know what it means?" If his Mom and his Aunt Paige were here, his Mom would be so telling Paige off for passing down her smartass streak. Chris, having said these words, winced. Bad move...

Moving surprisingly fast for someone of his size Luke Patterson seized the collar of Chris's shirt and swung him so that his feet left the floor, dropping him on the other side of the group. Chris stumbled but didn't fall.

And then Chris groaned, when he realized that the two of them had been backed into a corner.

"H-hi Chris," Ben greeted weakly, looking at Chris with apologetic hazel eyes.

"Hi Ben." Chris grabbed his shoulder and pulled him closer. Stick together was the number one rule in fighting, Wyatt had told him. Jack and his two friends were closing in. Darn! If only his mother had told him not to use his powers around other people. He could freeze the goons and then he and Ben could run someplace.

"Well, well, well." Jack chuckled. "If it isn't Halliwell coming to the rescue."

Chris gulped as the three boys cracked their knuckles. Doesn't matter anymore! He was going to use his power and get out of -

He saw Ben's hands flash out almost reflexively at the advancing bullies and a split second later heard Luke yell, "What did you do to my shoes!" They all looked down to where Luke's trainers were frozen to the pavement. Luke's eyes were wide with fear, and if Chris looked close enough she could have sworn he saw Luke's upper lip tremble slightly. The young witch's head whipped to look at Ben, who shrugged and looked down at his hands guiltily.

Chris didn't have time to process this new information, because Jack and Danny were charging closer. Danny was nearly on top of his when he flicked his hands, freezing the three boys and then latched onto Ben's wrist. Ben blinked in mild surprise at the statues just as Chris orbed them out of there and under one of the slides, where no one would see them.

"Wow..." Ben said as soon as they had materialized, feeling slightly dizzy as he felt his molecules settle back together. Adrenaline pulsed through his young body and his face lit up with excitement. "That was cool. None of my brothers have powers like that! Wait 'til I tell them!" His face fell. "Oops."

Chris patted him on the shoulder. "Its okay, my family has active powers too. I get orbing from my Dad. He's a Whitelighter." Why was he saying all this stuff? This was supposed to be a secret. But did it matter? Ben could freeze, like him, only real, with real ice and everything. "Look, why don't you come over after school? We could hang out." Chris nodded enthusiastically, nearly bursting with excitement. Ben wouldn't be like any of his other friends who had to be frozen or leave when a demon attacked.

Ben grinned and nodded. "Sounds cool. You're the only one I know who has powers like me. Except for my brothers, and they're all older than me..."

Chris grinned.

_**Learning to Tango**_

"Please tell me I reached the quota for being knocked flat on my back for the week..." Chris mumbled, his fingers tracing the Band Aid Piper had stuck on his forehead. His head still hurt and he felt sick, he could almost feel the aspirin he had taken rolling around in his stomach.

"Yeah, it's always you, huh?" Ben sat up on the couch, rearranging the blanket so it covered his bare feet. It was dark in the back of P3, and the windowless office had made Ben feel slightly claustrophobic at first but he was too damn tired to care. His shoulder ached and sharp pains shot through it every time he tried to move it, and he still toyed with the idea of calling Leo, especially after all that he had done to the Elder. Maybe he'd get it put in a sling or something...

Piper had said that they could make up another bed on another couch in the room that Chris used at the back of P3, because she really had nowhere else to put them, but a feeling of satisfaction of finally vanquishing all of those demons was making him smile so he didn't care all that much. The adrenaline rush had long since faded and now Ben was tired.

"Do you think Bridget's gonna be ok?" Chris asked softly, sighing and rolling over. "I mean, I didn't want to get her involved in this, I didn't want to get any of you guys involved in this. You'd be much better off in the future still... Do you think I screwed up?" He propped himself up on his elbow and looked at Ben, green eyes pleading for an answer.

Ben shifted uneasily, uncertain why Chris had suddenly become so dependant on him to tell him what was right and what was wrong. Ben didn't even know the first way to begin answering his best friend, but the question obviously plagued Chris, so he tentatively took a shot at answering.

It was true, the question was plaguing Chris so much that it nearly overrode the pain he was feeling in his head. The sisters had got close enough to give Bridget a sleeping potion, and when he'd orbed her into bed her eyes were normal colour again, so she must have been ok... Their situation was beginning to take a toll on him and he still couldn't quash the immense feeling of guilt after their fight. Everything was going _wrong..._ He should be saving Wyatt, and he was distracted with everything that was going on right now, and for the first time he felt his goal cloud, shrouded my so many others that he had to complete before actually saving Wyatt.

"If we didn't want to be here we could leave, Chris. Bianca did it, right?" Ben shrugged, rubbing a tired hand over his eyes. What else was he supposed to tell Chris? That at least was true, if they didn't want to be here then he'd been rhyming since he knew how, getting home wouldn't be tricky at all.

"Yeah, but Bianca was apparently a two-faced agent of Wyatt..." Chris muttered bitterly, putting his head in his hands and ignoring the cut protesting.

How could he not have seen what was going on? He had just blindly believed Bianca, and it had nearly ended with his death at the hands of his brother. At the last minute Bianca had saved him, sure, but was that out of love? Or just guilt? Or even fear that Wyatt would turn on her when Chris was apprehended?

"Not everyone can make the right choices in life, man. I mean it's impossible to go through life getting everything right all of the time. You just can't do it." Ben yawned and tried to cover it with his hand but failed. "Sorry, today's been kinda hectic, you know?"

"Yeah, I know. While I was knocked out I had this weird dream thingy... It was the day we met, when we were like seven, remember?"

"And you orbed us off to hide under the slides? Yeah, I remember that..." Ben laughed. "I think I nearly scared Luke to death that day..." Ben laughed again, but the sound was hollow and lacked humour. The witch stared at the wall and frowned. "Do you ever miss it? Being seven, I mean?"

"Yeah... Night..." Chris flipped the light off and rolled over, so he was staring at the back of the couch. Soon his friend's rhythmic breathing announced that he was sleeping, but it took longer for Chris to find peace.

He missed being seven more than he would ever let anyone know. It was just so uncomplicated. There was nothing to weigh down heavily, no sense of responsibility, the thrill of knowing he was 'special' and couldn't tell anyone else about it. The fact that he could stop time and disappear and reappear in any place he wanted was so exciting...

But his powers had been a curse. A curse linked to his blood and bloodline, something he could never truly erase from himself. Wyatt had tried but Chris was still a Halliwell witch, powers or no. But his powers had ended up with Bridget part evil and Wyatt a tyrant, his entire family all dead at the hand of his evil brother. What had magic brought him? Misery, pain and death.

All he could think about before he slept was images of his unborn child playing on a climbing frame from a shattered dream, falling away as the pieces were lost to Chris forever.

_**Last One Standing**_

The smell of disinfectant stung the nostrils of the young man who was lying bound on the cold tiles of the room. Goosebumps had long since faded and his body had become adjusted to the clinical air that was air-conditioned to the point of refrigeration. He didn't know what had happened to his shirt, but his arms were bruised from the hypodermic syringes that were being used to draw his blood.

He could hear someone working in the lab, maybe at a workbench, and the hum of machinery and the AC filled his ears, as well as what appeared to be the air compressor of a freezer. The material covering his eyes was knotted tightly at the back of his head, and the adhesive on the duct tape binding his hands to something set in the wall behind him had brought a red, chafed rash out on his wrists.

It had been foggy as he took a shortcut through the alley. He zipped his jacket up to his neck as beads of white moisture clung to the material and stumbled, feeling light-headed. He let out a snort; he hadn't had _that_ much to drink. He put the back on his hand to his forehead to wipe away the fog but it came back clammy with sweat. He blinked a few times, turning but tripping over himself and falling. He could feel his heart beating in his chest harder and harder, picking up speed.

He hadn't even had that much to drink and he'd felt fine earlier... He raised a hand to run it across his eyes and hit himself in the mouth hard enough to draw blood. How had he missed? He spat the blood onto the pavement and tried to get up, but his legs wobbled and folded under him. A figure emerged from the fog as he hit the rubbish-strewn alley floor.

The guy sighed and tuned out the clinking of various instruments and the hum of a machine. He had no idea where the hell he was and no one had volunteered information.

Man, Piper Halliwell should really do something if she was selling drinks that could do this to people.

_**Last One Standing**_

"Keys... Where did I put my keys? Oh..." Watching Phoebe dash around had given Paige a headache, so she went back to spreading her toast, forcing the butter into each corner of the bread slowly and deliberately with her knife. She finished and put it down on her plate, picking up her coffee and taking a sip.

"You know Phoebe you think you'd get used to being late after all this time," Paige commented, frowning as Phoebe tipped the entire contents of her purse out onto the kitchen island. Various makeup containers and business cards and phone numbers scribbled on napkins and packets of chewing gum and the odd piece of loose change and her wallet and a loose credit card and some receipts and two pens and a small notepad and some readers' letters and a small date book/diary fell out onto the counter's surface.

Paige watched as it all skittered across the wooden top of the island and expanded outwards from the point Phoebe had turned the bag upside down. "Jeez, who died and made you Mary Poppins?"

"You know Paige, I think you're just jealous because my purse is more expansive then yours."

Paige blinked. "Uh... huh... Where's Piper this morning?" She took a bite out of her toast and chewed.

"She said something about P3... A meeting? ARGH!" Phoebe slammed her hand down on the countertop. "My keys aren't in my purse..."

"No, but just about everything and anything else is," Paige nodded and grinned. "That's a good thing, right?"

"It's too early for smart asses..." Phoebe grumbled. "When Chris is born, I am so keeping you away from him, you rubbed off."

"Oh, please, why not inject a little humour into your life?"

"Inject a little what into your life?" Chris asked, emerging with Ben from a cloud of orbs. Ben sat down at the table, massaging a crick in his neck.

"Oh, nothing. I'm just trying to persuade your Aunt Phoebe that life isn't all doom and gloom," Paige shrugged, taking another sip of her coffee.

"Speaking of Phoebe, where-" Ben stopped and Phoebe rushed into the room, still cramming things back inside her purse.

"Oh, I'm late, I am so dead..." She buzzed out again and they heard the door of the washing machine pop open.

"Phoebe, that's the washing machine..." Chris said uncertainly. Phoebe's voice was lost as it echoed inside the drum. "Is something wrong with her?" Chris asked Paige, looking concerned. "She didn't get hit on the head, or a demon, or..."

The door to the washer slammed and the drier popped open. A curse word was all that could be heard from the belly of the metal machine and Paige shrugged again.

"She appears to think that the drier ate her keys..." The metal door slammed. "Or not..."

"She's looking for her keys?" Ben asked. "I think I saw a set of keys under the dining room table..." He yawned and waved a vague hand in the direction of the dining room, using the other one to rub his eyes.

Suddenly he felt the sting of something slapping against his palm and he stilled but didn't look at his hand just in case he didn't see what he hoped he would see.

"Chris, Phoebe's keys are stuck to my hand, aren't they?" Ben said weakly, still refusing to look at his hand.

"Yeah!" Chris's eyes lit up as he stared at the keys attached to his friend's palm.

This was so big, it was _huge_! Ben now had all of his powers back, finally. Phoebe rushed into the room and started to try and peel the keys from Ben's hand but failed until Ben suddenly let them clatter to the empty plate in front of his with a loud ceramic crash.

"You're telekinetic?" Paige asked, raising an eyebrow in Ben's direction and looking impressed. Her face fell. "Hey, before you all got here that used to be _my_ power..." She sulked slightly.

"Don't worry, I'm not telekinetic. It's..." He paused, chewing on his bottom lip. "I probably shouldn't say..."

"Oh, please, you're gonna use them in front of us sooner of later..." Paige rolled her eyes at Ben as Phoebe snatched up her keys and dashed out the door. "You might as well let it out now."

"I am- used to be- am again, I guess, magnokinetic. It's not as good as telekinesis, because it kind of only-"

"Attracts metal objects, by any chance?" Paige asked. "Wait, used to be? Did I miss out on something here?"

"Well it's complicated."

That, at least, was true. Future Wyatt, hoping to finally crush the resistance had captured Chris and Ben and 'persuaded' them to bind their powers, believing that the resistance would be completely powerless without them.

Paige snorted and sipped her coffee. "Oh, you're gonna give me that future consequences lecture right? Then I don't want to know..." She finished her toast and began clearing her plate.

"Chris, does this mean that you can...?"

Paige looked around suspiciously. "Are you kids talking in future code again?"

Chris rolled his eyes. "No."

Paige narrowed her eyes. "Fine, I can tell when I'm being shut out. Its ok, _I'm_ going to spend time with a nephew that doesn't know how to ostracise me before I go to work. I'll see you two later." She left the kitchen with a huff and they could hear her going upstairs.

Chris concentrated and suddenly rose into the air to about the height of the countertop and hovered, crossing his legs.

"You didn't get your empathy back?" Ben said, with a slightly disappointed look.

"Guess not. I'm on the way though, right?"

There was suddenly a loud crash on the baby monitor and they whipped around, startled, as Wyatt began to cry.

"Orb." Ben said to Chris, and Chris lunged across the air and grabbed his arm, orbing them out.

Before they fully reappeared, they were grabbed and thrown into the wall. As Chris reappeared he hit a chest of drawers on the way down and Ben crashed through a rocking chair.

The demon was tall and purple, with a band of green where his deep set eyes were. He powered up an energy ball in his palm and threw it at Wyatt.

"Energy ball!" Paige commanded from the floor, orbing the weapon away from Wyatt's force field and towards the demon. The demon shimmered out and the orb hit the wall, leaving a black scorch mark that no amount of scrubbing would get off. Paige pulled a face and got up. "Everyone ok?"

"Pride hurt..." Ben muttered, standing up.

"Bruises mean nothing. Constant – ow – Vigilance," Chris said, getting up. "Is Wyatt ok? The demon didn't do anything to him, right?"

Wyatt was still crying, encased in his bubble and Paige went to comfort him. He wouldn't let the shield down, though.

"I don't think so. Come on, little man, it's ok. It's Aunt Paige!" Wyatt looked up at her for a second before continuing crying. "Huh." Paige stood back and put her hands on her hips. "Maybe if we call in Daddy? Would you like that?"

"Daba."

"Ok, just a minute then..." She turned to the wreckage and sighed, wincing as she saw Piper yelling at her.

"_Let the object of objection  
become but a dream  
as I cause the se-"_

A loud thump shook the wall scone on the wall behind her as the smudge mark half-heartedly disappeared in a small display of white orbs.

"Great, now it looks like I _tried _to cover it up and couldn't do it," Paige grumbled, folding her arms.

"Daba."

Chris' eyes widened as his brain finally calculated the sound of the thump and his stomach lurched. "Bridget's in the next room!" Chris exclaimed, orbing out before anyone could stop him.

"Daba?" Wyatt asked, watching the lights fade.

"Oh, great..." Paige groaned, putting her head in her hands and orbing out too.

"Hey! Not blessed with the power to orb, here!" Ben yelled at the ceiling, rolling his eyes. Wyatt pulled himself up in his crib using the bars. "Sorry, kiddo, I'm going to have to bail on you too."

"Daba!" Wyatt yelled, tears flowing again as he screwed up his face and orbed out.

"Wyatt, no!" Ben lunged for the crib but was too late, as the only thing left were blue and white orbs.

Another thump shook the wall, dislodging a picture of Thomas the Tank from its hook, shattering the glass front. Ben looked at the empty crib, at the door and then back to the crib again.

"Oh, man." He finally dashed out into the upstairs hallway and into the guestroom.

"Tell me where it is," the demon growled, releasing the tightness in his two fists slightly and allowing Paige and Chris to gulp in enough air to talk. Bridget was lying in a small heap half inside the wardrobe, pieces of the door littering the floor around her. Ben couldn't tell if she was breathing or not.

"Don't know - what you – mean-" Paige gasped, as the demon forced her higher up the wall towards the ceiling.

"Yes you do!"

"Hey!" Ben yelled, releasing a rush of fire at the demon that snapped his arm away and made him drop Paige. She hit the mattress choking. Ben raised his hands again but had to ice an energy ball heading his way before trying for the demon again.

Chris's legs were kicking uselessly in the air and his vision was going dim at the edges, beginning to blur into black. He could feel his windpipe caving in, as the demon's telekinetic hold on him grew stronger.

"Don't try it," the demon warned Ben, seeing the witch's hands raised. "Tell me where it is first."

"I don't know what you mean."

"Put him down." The command was icy and they all turned to see Bridget standing upright. A dark bruise was forming on her cheek and there were long scratches and cuts on her arms and a few on her face. The familiar cold look on her face seemed more deadly than the one Ben was used to. Her look had always told demons that they were going to die, but now... Ben suppressed a shudder.

"I thought I killed you," the demon said dismissively, throwing another energy ball at her. She caught it and crushed it easily into a wisp of smoke.

"Put. Him. Down." The threat chilled Ben's blood, not because he knew she would react badly if the order wasn't followed, but her voice had deepened slightly and it resonated with frightening command around the room, as if it echoed.

Bridget's eyes flashed black with a swirl of bright orange flames and she grinned at the demon standing there, cocking an eyebrow and waiting for him to do as she commanded.

"R-r-right away, mistress. N-no one told me you were still a-alive."

Bridget extended an arm and the demon winced, covering his face and dropping to his knees. Chris fell to the floor unconscious, but all Bridget did was curl and uncurl her index finger twice.

The demon shuffled towards her on his knees, and she bent and hissed in his ear, "Leave. Us. _Alone." _

"Yes, Your Highness, of course..." The demon babbled, scrabbling with the purple silk nightdress in hope of favour.

Summoning the athame into her palm brought another flash of flame to her eyes, and plunging it into the demon's stomach brought a grin to her face. As the demon died, Ben couldn't tell whether the flames in her eyes were reflections of the genuine thing.

Bridget dropped the athame to the carpet with a thud, and it immediately shimmered out of her view. The ashes of the demon began fading into nothing as well and she looked down at her hands, her body shaking.

"Bridget, come on..." Ben said, stepping towards her. He could see her trembling from here.

She growled, wrenching her body away from the arm Ben had put around her shoulders. "He thought I was his ruler," she spat. "He thought I- he thought I was a _demon..._"

"Well, you are kind of swapping your blood with the future Source as we speak. You didn't have to kill him because he made one _tiny_ mistake, did you?" Ben licked his lips, hoping to hear Bridget's laugh.

"You don't get it, do you? There's this _thing_ inside of me and it's making me evil. As in really, really evil. Dammit. What happens if I don't come back one of these days?"

"Don't think like that." Bridget shook her head, turning away from Ben, her shaking becoming more pronounced. She sniffled, trying to hide the tears that were threatening.

"Look, I don't want you near me in case I go nuts again, ok?"

"What are you going to do, hide in the closet? It doesn't even have a door anymore..."

"Just get out!" Bridget shrieked, pointing at the door. A stream of fire streaked towards Ben, but he made it spiral in on itself and disappear.

Bridget paused, breathing heavily. If that had been anyone else... Someone without the power to control fire... "I nearly killed you, for Christ's sake, Ben, why won't you LEAVE!"

"You won't kill me. I'm tough," he patted his chest proudly. "Come on, Bridget..."

"I could hurt you really, really bad then!" She gave a derisive sob-laugh, her eyes shining and looked at her hands. "Ben, I don't know what I could do right now. I have this baby that has some witch powers and some demon powers and I don't even know how to _use _them so just..." She flung out her arm in frustration and Ben was lifted off of his feet and through the closed door.

Bridget shrieked in a horrified shock and wrapped her arms around herself, face white. The silence was deafening, ringing in her ears.

"See?" Ben's voice broke the silence as he managed to stand on wobbly legs, using the doorframe for support. "Didn't kill me..." The witch had scratches all over his body and trickle of blood dribbled from the corner of his mouth, but he slowly let go of his support and stood on his own, coughing into one hand. "I'm invincible. Come on, Bridget, you've got to let me help."

"I don't know..." Bridget sunk to her knees, relief and fear all overwhelming her at once.

"Come on, Ben. I think she wants to be alone..." Paige got off of the bed and put an arm around Ben's waist, rubbing his back.

"I don't want to leave her like this, Paige." Ben said, squirming out of the Charmed One's grasp.

"She needs some time alone." Paige almost whispered. "Come on, sweetie..." Slowly she managed to lead a limping Ben out of the room.

Bridget rubbed the tears from her eyes and sniffed. "Chris?" Bridget crawled over to her prone best friend and gently shook him. "Chris?" She felt more sobs rising in her throat and forced them away, letting what she promised herself to be her last two tears of that day fall onto Chris's rumpled shirt. Shaking her head, Bridget put his head in her lap and began wiping the blood from his forehead.

God this was horrible. Terrible. She was a demon hunter. It was her job to hunt demons and vanquish them, not be their supreme queen bee. She used to have the adrenaline rush from defeating the demons. The rush of feeling that meant that she had saved one more life.

Now? It was like they were being punished. The hateful satisfaction... She was the hero, not the evil queen.

Taking a deep breath, she finished wiping the blood from his face and took his hand in hers. How long had they been friends? She couldn't remember anymore. They had been through witch burnings and wars and battles, fights and kidnappings. But it had always been the four of them. Sure Ben was still here, but it was just her and Chris now. Ben couldn't know what they were feeling. She didn't even know what Chris was feeling, but it must be something similar to her own. "I know you probably can't hear me, but I'm so sorry..." She rubbed her thumb over the back of his hand tiredly and looked around the wreckage of the guest room. "I don't think I can do this anymore..."

Squeezing his hand, she let it go, scooting away from him. Closing her eyes, she concentrated and became wreathed in flames before disappearing.

_**Learning to Tango**_

**Well that's that for now. So what will happen? I'm probably going to skip Flames AGAINto write the next chapter, so maybe in a fortnight's time? Don't hold me to that, though, because you never know...**

**I just realized from the dates on your reviews that this was updated nearly TWO MONTHS ago. I'm so sorry, I had no idea...**

**Pixie: - Thank you! I liked this chapter, and it was so much shorter...**

**Claddagh Ring: - Heh, I'm so, so sorry. Thanks for reviewing.**

**Alexis Rose: - Yeah, I know. But it might turn out alright in the end. Everything always turns out right in the end, right? Heh. You'll have to wait and see. Thanks for reviewing.**

**Rafiki: - Lol, thanks. Sorry for the wait.**

**Stony Angel: - Lol, thanks. Ok, there's Chris in the chapter, lol, you should be somewhat pleased. Yeah, just a little tiff, huh? Hm... Thanks for reviewing.**

**As Always: - Ooh, fast... There's an f word that I'm not too fond of, heh. I had no idea it had been two damn months...**

**Charmed Amber: - Ya, this is slightly less like an episode. It's less than half the length, lol, so yeah... Thanks for your review...**

**Dominique1: - Lol! Yes, I did see what you did there, it made me laugh. I can't believe I took so long to update, it's been ridiculous. Thanks for reviewing, I really appreciated it, and I probably don't deserve one for this chapter because I took so damn long...**

**Princesscatie21: - Aw, sorry... Nixa died... Well who knows how it'll turn out in the end?**

**May-j: - Heh, are you new? I didn't even notice a new reviewer, that's how late I am. Hey, by the way. Lol, don't mind me, just thanks for the review**


	5. Chapter 5

Darryl stood back and surveyed the crime scene, the flashes of the Polaroid camera throwing the body into bright white relief for a split second before it whirred and spat the square photo out.

Forensics had donned white suits and rubber gloves to examine the scene so as not to contaminate the alley. Darryl's own hands were sweating inside his own pair as he stood just outside the taped off area.

White male, mid twenties, single stab-wound to the stomach. They didn't know how long he had been dead but they could work that out at the coroner's office. They could also establish the origins of the track marks and bruises from numerous needles on his arms. No shirt had been found on the body and examination by the coroner had revealed he had been bound with duct tape before he had been killed, the adhesive present on his wrists.

There was a pattern emerging. If this had been happening in young women and he was still on speaking terms with the Halliwells, he would have passed the case on to them. Young women, all being killed or going missing, pointed to witch hunts by demons or any other evil.

But he wasn't talking to the Halliwells anymore, not since he had nearly ended up _dead_ because of them. Besides, it was young men... His mind flashed to Chris. He knew guys could be witches too and he sighed, pushing it out of his mind. This was normal, every day SFPD stuff. Nothing magical about it.

"Looks like we've got another one?" Sheridan said, ducking under the tape and pushing hair out of her face, breaking into his thoughts.

"I'm still waiting on the tox screen results," Darryl said, not looking at his partner. "Then we'll know if they're connected."

"You still think this was some gang drug war?" Sheridan asked, cocking an eyebrow at him.

"They've got the track marks, right? So they've been shooting heroin or something, using when they couldn't pay for it." Darryl shrugged, knowing it wasn't going to be as simple as that. It never was.

"That makes three males, all stabbed and found with needle marks on their arms. This isn't a coincidence, Morris," she stepped closer to him, pulling out a notepad. She grinned at him. "Oh, guess the location the first two were last seen alive?"

"There's a connection there, too?" Darryl asked, surprised. He hadn't seen the notes on the case yet.

"Yeah, they were all last seen at P3. A club owned by none other than Piper Halliwell, one of our favourite sisters. I think we might need to pay them a little visit..." She snapped the pad shut and put it into her pocket, pulling her gloves off as she walked towards their unmarked car.

The lieutenant groaned inwardly. This whole thing _would_ have to involve the sisters, wouldn't it?

_**Learning to Tango**_

Paige orbed another load of splintered wood into the bin she was using to try and clear up the guest room. They would need a new door and a set of new doors for the wardrobe... The bedside table was still ok, but the lamp on it was obliterated. On the bed, Leo's hands hovered over Ben's shoulder, hands glowing gold.

Ben was refusing to look into the Elder's face as he was healed, finding the pattern on the bedspread engrossing. Chris was sitting cross-legged on the floor, already healed and with a crystal swinging over a map of San Francisco.

"I can't find her..." He muttered as Paige called for the shards of the lamp and orbed them into the trash on top of the wood and then orbing out with them to the trash.

She reappeared moments later, hands on hips, rolling her eyes. "I am so not telling Piper about this," she announced, sighing.

"Thanks," Ben said gruffly to Leo, moving his shoulder through a full rotation and not feeling any pain. "Well it's your choice. Do you tell her about Wyatt orbing to his Daddy or the guest room being wrecked?"

Wyatt was safe and sound, having appeared in Leo's arms as he was doing his duties Up There. Leo had come down to give his son back and had then immediately begun healing to everyone.

"Neither," Paige said smugly, reciting the object of objection spell and clearing up the room in a swirl of white lights.

"Got her!" Chris yelled triumphantly as the crystal fell to the map, startling everyone.

"Where?" Ben asked, getting off of the bed.

"Shit!" Chris's green eyes were wide with panic when he suddenly dissolved into a swirl of orbs.

"What? Chris!" Ben walked over to the map but the crystal had rolled off of the spot. "Dammit, he never tells me anything."

_**Learning to Tango**_

"Bridget!" Chris called over the wind and she whipped around to him, hair and gown flapping in the wind. Her eyes were narrowed and she was working hard to keep her balance in the buffeting gusts.

"What the hell are you doing here?" She demanded angrily, eyes blazing. Now was not the time. She didn't need the sad puppy dog look when she was working on jumping. He would make her stop, hell, he might even make her see sense...

"I don't want you to do anything stupid!" Chris stepped towards her, but she just stepped back, shaking her head. Chris dropped his hands to his side, hurt flashing in his eyes.

"No." She turned away from his advances, back out to the horizon.

"What?" Chris was confused. "Why?"

"I hurt everyone I'm near." The pain in her eyes was unchanged and Chris walked behind her, putting a hand on her shoulder. She angrily shrugged it away. He tried to calm her fears but he knew he couldn't. Damn Wyatt and the blocking potion. He really wished he had his 'Telempathy' as Ben had dubbed it. At least he could take away some of the burden.

"So you thought you would jump? Take the easy way out? So you're suddenly a mother and you've gone all soft on me? You don't want to jump, Bridget, come on! That's the simplest thing to do and, well, you're Bridget."

"I want this to be over." She huffed, smacking the metal. "And for your information I already did. Twice."

"What?" Chris whispered, his lips barely moving as he stared at her back. "How...?"

"I just keep flaming back to safety." She let out a loud, derisive laugh. "Our little bundle of joy doesn't want Mommy to die. Oh, God, I can't even kill myself properly, Chris. Do you know how low that makes me feel?" She turned to him, eyes wet with tears. "Don't you get it?" She asked softly. "There's nothing for me any more, there's nothing that I can do. It's over..."

"No, it's just beginning. We have a kid now, it's all beginning."

"No, Chris, everything's over. I'm their _Queen_. I used to kick their asses and now I'm their leader. Do you know how that makes me feel? It's all over and it would be over right now if I could just jump off of this damn BRIDGE!"

The fireball forced Chris to throw himself to the ground and blistered the paint, melting it and boiling it off of the metal behind him.

"You SEE? You see what I do with my powers?" She dragged a hand through her hair, her eyes wild and darting this way and that. What if she'd hurt him?

Why did this keep happening? Why was she so damn _weak_? She kept bursting into tears and demanding attention from anyone willing to comfort her, and she needed that person to be Chris... She promised herself that she wouldn't do this again to him. It wasn't fair.

"Sorry, Chris," she whispered, her eyes never leaving his as she stepped backwards off of the pillar.

"Bridget!" He jumped up and scrambled to the edge on his hands and knees, his heart thudding wildly in his ears and his breathing coming in short gasps. He saw a flutter of black hair far below him. She was too far down, even if he orbed...

He slowly scrambled backwards from the edge, horror in his eyes. Shouldn't she have flamed back by now? He could feel his heart beating and he breathed deeply to try and control it.

"See."

"You scared me to death!" He yelled suddenly, turning to her.

"When you know you're not gonna hit it's quite fun. Like the best ride you've ever been on. But you see? You see what I mean with all this involuntary flaming?"

Chris stood up. "Well I'll take you to Magic School." He suggested, coming over to her. "It's protected against demons, you can't use demonic powers there and there'll be someone to teach you, there will. Come on."

Bridget only hesitated a few moments before leaving, not in a ball of flame, but bright blue orbs.

_**Learning to Tango**_

"Oh, I am so late for work..." Paige mumbled, grabbing her purse from the foyer table.

"What? You've got to go to a temp job?" Ben asked, following her around the room.

"Yup. It's all go at the agency, never any time off." Paige shrugged on a jacket. "Although, if a family member dies, I get three hours off for the funeral." She pulled a face. "So I'm really looking forward to that. Any takers?"

"Don't look at me, I'm not related," Ben said flatly. "What if another demon attacks?"

"Hello? You're the one with all the powers, magnet guy."

"Ha ha." Ben said. "Have you got your cell?"

Paige tapped her head. "I'm using the cosmic cell. Very useful. Now I have to go so I will see you when I get back, ok?" She waved as she disappeared. "Buh-bye now, you kids have fun!"

"But-" Paige had already disappeared and Ben's shoulders slumped. He sighed, putting his head in his hands for a little whole before wandering thorough into the parlour. "Chris!" He yelled at the ceiling, practically collapsing on the couch. He was so damn tired, and sick of everything that was going on. He wanted it all to be over, just let him rest...

Where was Chris? And where was Bridget, was she all right? Chris hadn't come back after he had orbed after her, what did that mean? Had she blasted him like she had done him? Questions raced around his mind and he couldn't stop them, not even when he closed his eyes to try and grab a nap. He was interrupted when a loud crack and the noise of splintering wood echoed from the foyer and his eyes snapped open.

The witch immediately got to his feet and looked back to the front door to where he and Paige had been arguing only moments before. A piece of metal withdrew from the cracked lock and the door banged open, knocking it into the wall.

"Police, freeze!" Sheridan yelled, pointing her gun at his chest.

"Whoa! Hey!" Ben said, blinking and gathering his bearings. That was not what he had been expecting... "Who the hell are you?" He eventually demanded as Sheridan motioned for him to put his hands in the air. He pretended he didn't get what she meant. "You can't just-"

"Bust in here like this?" Sheridan finished for him and he rolled his eyes. With one hand still levelling her gun at him she fished into her pocket and pulled out a piece of paper, crossed the foyer and thrust it into Ben's chest so that he lost his balance and fell back onto the couch. "I've got a warrant," she said, smirking down into his face. "Watch me."

Ben didn't even read the piece of paper he held in his hand, just stared at Sheridan's smirking face. He looked behind her to where Darryl Morris was standing, his gun by his side.

"Darryl?" Ben asked incredulously, unable to help himself. This couldn't be Lieutenant Morris, could it? What was he doing working against the sisters and magic? How much had the timeline changed? He fought the urge to massage his temples.

"Do you know this kid, Morris?" The Inspector asked with a smile. "Pretty damn convenient, huh?" Sheridan asked over her shoulder.

Darryl didn't know what to say, and he looked so lost Ben jumped in to rescue him. "No, but I know him," the witch said, confusion clouding his mind. He barely knew what was going on with himself any more, and now he had the Police busting into the Manor. The Manor full of magical paraphernalia. He suddenly stood up, causing Darryl to finally raise his gun and forcing Sheridan to step backwards.

"Is there anyone else here?" The Inspector asked, looking to the ceiling.

"The baby, but I don't think he's respond to you pointing a gun at him," Ben told her, sucking in a deep breath.

_No, he'd probably just orb your gun up your-_

"Stay there," Sheridan told him. Darryl took his elbow and made him sit back down on the couch. Sheridan went off through the house, gun raised, looking suspicious and wary.

She'd probably picked up on his worry, and maybe his tiredness too. People like her always used your weaknesses against you.

"Jeez, stop that, will you?" Darryl demanded. Ben looked down into his lap to where his hands were nervously twitching around each other. "Do you know how nervous that makes me?"

"What? Are you afraid I might just-" Ben raised his hands and Darryl grabbed for his gun. Ben laughed and rolled his eyes, leaning his arms up on the back of the couch.

Darryl gritted his teeth. "I mean it. I've seen what the sisters can do with their hands and I don't know who the hell you are but if you're living here-"

"If I were you I'd be more worried about what I could do with my mouth," Ben said, the grin getting wider and Darryl got up and began backing away, his gun trained on Ben.

"Don't try it, I mean it!" He hissed, panic flaring in his eyes.

Ben flashed his eyebrows up and down.

"_Freeze this house in place and time,_

_Hear these words, he-"_

Darryl squeezed the trigger on his gun without even thinking about it, intending to fire a warning shot into the rug at Ben's feet. As the barrel exploded and the bullet shot out it slowed to a crawl and stopped, dropping to the floor with a metallic clink.

Darryl looked at Ben's palm, which was outstretched in his direction and swore under his breath, shaking his head.

"What's the matter, what's happening?" Sheridan demanded, coming around the corner from the conservatory and training her gun on Ben. "What was the gunshot?"

Ben's head was reeling and he couldn't look at or deal with both guns at once so he started muttering his spell under his breath.

"_Freeze this house in place and time,_

_Hear these words, heed this rhyme."_

Immediately the two cops froze in place. Darryl was shooting daggers at him with his eyes as he froze. The lieutenant had probably seen his lips moving.

The Manor was eerily quiet without its usual noses of clocks and creaking and Ben sighed slightly, closing his eyes for a beat. When he opened them he called Chris.

"What's up, is it Wyatt? Is Wyatt ok?" Chris asked, orbing in.

"Don't worry, I'm fine." Chris glared at him and he rolled his eyes for the umpteenth time that day. "Wyatt's napping. How's Bridget?"

"I took her to Magic School. Well, she orbed herself to Magic school and I frantically followed. Do you know how hard it is to sense people there? I mean all the magic in the air and everything..."

Ben blinked. "She _orbed?_ She can?"

Chris nodded. "The baby is half mine after all." He grinned, obviously proud that the baby was showing a good side at last. "She can't use her demonic powers there, so she should be able to get back on track. Are we being raided?" Chris added, seeing the frozen cops.

"They have a warrant," Ben said dryly, throwing it down onto the couch. "It looks like we're busted."

"We can't get busted, not now. We can do this; we've been fooling people half our lives- Why are they frozen?"

Ben looked down at the bullet on the floor and kicked it under the couch with the heel of his sneaker. "No idea."

Chris rolled his eyes. "Unfreeze them, I'll be upstairs. We'll think of something." He orbed out.

Ben looked at the cops and narrowed his eyes in thought. "Uh... Easier said than done, Chris...

"_Reverse the magic cast here..._

_Let the spell... disappear?" _

Ben winced. A nine-year-old could have done better. However there was a small swirl of white lights and the house became animated again, the rush of sounds almost assaulting his ears.

At Darryl's continued glare, Ben shot him a grin that did nothing but make the lieutenant madder. He really didn't like this kid.

"What's going on here?" Sheridan repeated, looking from Darryl to Ben and narrowing her eyes. "I heard-"

"Whoa, company?" Chris asked, jogging down the stairs and coming to rest on the half-landing, breaking Sheridan out of the questioning as she swung her gun to point it at him.

"This is getting ridiculous," Sheridan said, looking up at Chris. "The sisters certainly like their boytoys, don't they? Is there a third one of you hanging around somewhere?" She paused, cocking her head. "You- you look like Phoebe's..." She told Chris eventually.

"What?" Chris paused, suddenly getting it as Ben pulled a face behind her back. "Ew."

Sheridan rolled her eyes. "Are the sisters home? I'd especially like to talk to Piper."

"Why? What's wrong?" Chris asked, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his jeans and coming down the rest of the stairs.

"We'd like her to help us with out investigation," Sheridan said shortly. "Do you know where she is?"

"She's in a meeting..." Chris said. "Are you just here to see her?"

"We have a warrant to search this house because we think they this family might be connected to a homicide."

"What?" Ben and Chris asked at the same time. That was completely unexpected.

"You think one of the sisters is going around killing people?" Ben asked, disbelieving.

"We don't know what to think, that's why we're here." Sheridan reached into the pocket of her jacket and pulled on some gloves. "We'll start in the kitchen." She strode of, flipping blonde hair over her shoulders.

Ben and Chris made to follow her but Darryl told them to stop. "You'd better just let her search, or she'll take you in for obstruction."

"What, so she can expose magic? You know what, Darryl? We nearly die _every day _and we don't just give up on the cause. I don't see why you should think differently." Chris stared at Darryl until the older man looked away and then walked off.

Darryl looked to the floor but then his resolve hardened. Chris had no idea, _no idea_ of what nearly being executed had felt like. Having to say goodbye... He made another move to stop them, but he just missed them walking into the dining room, Ben backing in and wiggling his fingers in Darryl's direction, an amused smile playing across his lips.

Darryl's face hardened and his finger tightened on the trigger, but he saw Chris's hand flash out in the direction of the kitchen the way Piper's often did and he groaned, holstering the weapon and moving towards the kitchen.

Sheridan was frozen, using a pen to search through one of the drawers. He caught the end of what sounded like a spell and certain things began disappearing all around the kitchen in swirls of white lights.

"What the hell are you guys doin'?" Darryl asked, his eyes wide. They were destroying evidence, removing it... If they'd done that without magic he could have arrested them by now. No special treatment for witches anymore, things had to be done properly.

"Covering up our magical tracks. Apparently we're not getting help with that anymore."

"Don't you try that guilt thing with me," Darryl hissed, following the two young men back through into the dining room. "I've known the sisters six years and I have helped them so much but there is a line. I was nearly killed covering for them. I'm not-" Chris turned abruptly on his heel to face Darryl, nearly causing a collision.

"Huh... Ok, so we have two frozen cops. What are we gonna do with them?" Ben asked. Chris was about to answer when Wyatt started crying.

Chris rolled his eyes. "Uhhh Ok, I'll go deal with Wyatt, you call my Mom and let her know that the cops want to talk to her. While I'm up there I'll lock the attic."

"And then we've just gotta co-operate, right?"

"Looks like it," Chris replied glumly, orbing out.

Ben rubbed his eyes before reaching for the phone.

_**Learning to Tango**_

"Hey, Wyatt. What's up?" Chris asked, picking up the toddler and pulling a face, trying to ignore how weird this was. This was his older brother all... not so old. "You hungry? Well there's this bitch in the kitchen so you might have to wait."

"Bitz," Wyatt repeated.

"You got that right," he paused. "No, you don't have that right at all. That's bad. Why am I even teaching morals to you?" Dammit. Leo and Piper were going to kill him. Oh well, he could just blame it on his aunts. Paige had influenced his vocabulary most, the line, _'Well if they don't hear it here then they're just gonna hear it somewhere else...'_ was one of her favourites.

"So we're gonna wait? Ok, good." Chris put Wyatt down but the toddler, it seemed, didn't understand the term 'to wait' and began crying louder.

"Dammit, Wyatt..." Chris turned, exasperated, and spotted a box of Animal Crackers that someone had left up here. He reached for the box and pulled out two elephants and a hippo, handing them to Wyatt. "Knock yourself out, kiddo."

Wyatt began eating the crackers and as Chris left the room the whole box orbed into the toddler's hands.

_**Learning to Tango**_

"Your Mom wants to come home," Ben said, moving his mouth away from the phone.

"No, I don't want her turning up with all of this going on. Just... tell her to stay at the meeting and we'll sort everything out. I just wanted her to know about it."

"Stay put, Piper, we've got this one, ok?" Ben waited about five more seconds before hanging up. "She's not happy. In fact, she's really starting to remind me of Bridget. It's the kind of mad that leaves you waiting for the explosion."

"Well what else do you expect?" Chris replied absently. Ben rolled his eyes, deciding that his mom was right. Guys did like to go for girls like their moms. As Chris walked past Darryl he vaguely waved his hand in the cop's direction, unfreezing him.

"-doing this any - Wait, did you freeze me?" Darryl demanded, turning around to look at Chris.

"Maybe," Chris replied evasively, unfreezing Sheridan. She closed the drawer with a thump and looked up.

"What are you two doing there?"

"Watching you search the house?" Ben offered, leaning against the doorframe. Sheridan slammed the next drawer and moved to the cupboards.

"These cupboards are looking a bit on the empty side," she remarked, tapping for a false back or bottom.

"You're gonna arrest us for not going grocery shopping?" Ben asked as she moved to the next cupboard. "What are you looking for anyway? A murder weapon? Piper probably baked it in that cake she gave to the homeless shelter. She's smart like that."

Sheridan ground her teeth together. Ben only saw it as a sign to plough on as Sheridan bent to look under the sink.

Ben gave a mock gasp. "Don't go in there! That's where we hide _all_ the evidence!"

"If you want to stand around making smart-ass comments, that's fine, just do it when you're not in my way!" She slammed the cupboard and strode into the dining room.

She examined the inside of the sideboard before moving to the fireplace. She picked up the fireside ornaments one by one.

"Damn, you caught us. We're secret poker smugglers."

"What's this?" Sheridan has her nose nearly on the iron as she examined what appeared to be dried blood on the surface of the poker. "Well, well, well, what have we here?"

"A poker," Ben said, frowning.

"There's blood on it," Sheridan said, waving it vaguely at him. "Want to explain that?"

"Sheridan, that's ridiculous. The autopsies said those guys were stabbed with a sharp, double bladed knife."

"We run people through with that poker on a daily basis. That's probably where the blood came from." Ben nodded, hopping up onto the dining room table.

"Morris, stop trying to protect them and put this in an evidence bag," Sheridan said, handing the implement to her partner. She turned to Chris and Ben. "We're gonna find out whose blood this is and then we're going to bust you for it." The smile was sickly sweet and Ben narrowed his eyes at her, picking his nails and the poker glowed white hot and melted the plastic evidence bag, searing the blood off of the iron tip. Darryl dropped it to the floor with a loud clang. The acrid smell of burning plastic hung in the air.

"What the hell was that?" Sheridan demanded, whirling around.

"Nothing. I missed the bag," Darryl said, glaring at Chris and Ben as he sealed the poker into a fresh bag. Ben only shrugged as Sheridan went through the door into the conservatory, wearily following her.

"Did you know this is poisonous?" She asked, breaking a piece of fern off and rolling it between her fingers.

"No, it's really not. Baby in the house, remember?" Chris said, rolling his eyes as she dropped it into another evidence bag.

"We'll run a tox screen, see if any of the poisons match."

"Match what? Wait, you think we're poisoning people? You thought we were stabbing them earlier!" Chris protested as she sealed the bag and handed it to Darryl.

From the baby monitor on the cabinet Wyatt's crying punctuated the air.

"I'll go..." Ben said as Sheridan opened the cabinet.

_**Learning to Tango**_

"Hey, Wyatt, what's wrong now?" Ben asked. There were crumbs scattered around the floor of his playpen and Ben moved to pick him up, but was suddenly encased in the child's force field.

"Um... O...k..." Ben turned, falling on his ass and out of the protective bubble as he backed away from the demon and tripped over a Thomas the Tank someone had left on the floor.

"Give me the child."

"If we're gonna do this can we do it quietly? Please?" Ben gestured with his hands but the demon threw an energy ball at him and when the powers met a concussive wave knocked over Wyatt's dresser with a loud thump and blasted the demon into the door. The wave shattered the glass of the lamp as well, the coloured shade and the bulb tinkling to the floor in shards. "Quietly?" Ben asked hopefully.

The demon threw an athame at him and Ben used his power to throw it back. It embedded itself in the wall outside of the door. Chris appeared in the doorway, his hands raised.

"What about Sheridan?" Ben asked, scrambling up, wondering why Chris wasn't with her.

"She came running up here when she heard the thumps. She saw it."

"Saw what?"

"Well, the athame flying out of the room..."

Ben groaned and cursed. "Would it kill us if something went our way for once? We should talk to Leo about it..." He paused, scratching his chin as he thought. "Ok. Chris, break the window."

"What? No! Mom'll kill me!"

"We've got to make it look like someone broke in..."

Chris reluctantly went over to the window and leant out, putting his elbow through one pane and then reaching through, breaking the catch so the window opened.

"Ok, Wyatt, you're ok, you're ok... Put your shield down..." Ben said gently, trying to coax the baby into being 'normal'. The child refused. "Oh, come on! Please? We'll kill the demon, ok? You wanna?" Wyatt blinked at him and Ben reached through the force field and picked him up, entering the shield. "Ok... Come on, it's ok..."

Wyatt let down the bubble and stared at the frozen demon, whimpering slightly. Chris stepped on broken glass from the lamp and Wyatt jumped at the noise.

"Ok, look. Count with me? One, two, three!" On three, the frozen demon burst into flames and died. "Good?" Ben asked Wyatt, putting him back down in his crib and throwing open the window. "How the hell are we going to pull this off?" Ben moaned, rubbing his head.

"We've got to... Should I get the babysitter?" Chris asked, looking at all the broken glass everywhere.

"Thanks for the vote of confidence. Do you even know how?" Ben asked, cocking an eyebrow.

"Uh..." Chris was stumped. When has he ever had to summon a nanny in his life? Oh well, he might as well get used to it.

"Figures." Ben said, laughing slightly and rolling his eyes.

"_Wyatt's nanny come today,_

_If you're fast we'll... give you double pay"_

"That was crap," Ben said, poking fun at his friend's shoddy rhyming.

"Oh, please. Like you could have come up with better?"

The elf nanny appeared in a swirl of golden orbs. "What'll it be today then?" She asked, looking over to Wyatt and she gasped. "Oh, would you look at that. A baby playing in with shards of glass. Oh, what is happening to the world? You just wait until I see his mother..." Tutting and muttering to herself she summoned an apron and tied it on, letting the side of the crib down and beginning to pick up the biggest pieces of glass.

"Yeah, hi. Uh, we need a favour..."

_**Learning to Tango**_

"What the hell is wrong with you?" Darryl demanded, gesturing angrily to the athame embedded in the wall. "You could have killed us! Why the hell were you throwing weapons around a baby anyways?"

"It wasn't me! He came through the window!" Ben said, pointing outside. Darryl crossed to the window and looked out.

"There's no one there."

"He threw the knife at me when I came in and then jumped out of the window and onto that tree... Then he disappeared..." Ben had never been good at acting. He should've been though, what with all the lying they had to do.

Although, that was usually Chris and Bridget. Bridget, who had to routinely sneak out to patrol at night and Chris, who had just been around it all his life. Ok, so he could lie, but he sucked at the acting part. He didn't think for a second he looked all that scared of someone breaking into the nursery to take Wyatt, mainly because if that ever did happen then the mortal would stand no chance in a house full of witches.

"Why would someone want to kidnap the kid?" Sheridan asked, lowering her gun around the toddler.

"I don't know. His mother owns a club; his aunt has her face on buses. They must figure the Halliwells are loaded or something..." Ben shrugged slightly.

"Are they? Loaded, I mean."

"I don't think that's any of your business," Chris replied coolly.

"Oh, trust me. I can make it my business." She walked out into the upstairs hall. Morris!" The Inspector called, examining the blade. "Sharp double-bladed weapon? Probably serrated?"

"You think whoever you're looking for is after Wyatt? Is he dangerous?" Chris asked, playing the part of the concerned... person.

"I don't think there's anyone after Wyatt," she wrenched the athame from the wall using one of her gloves and sealed it in an evidence bag. "I think you're covering for something."

"What?" Ben asked, folding his arms and leaning against the crib.

"Bang... He go bye..." Wyatt said, holding onto the top of the crib.

"Yeah, he did, didn't he? Out of the window."

"I'm arresting you on suspicion of murder."

"What?!" Ben stood up as if he has been electrocuted. Darryl and Chris looked equally stunned. "On what evidence?"

"On the evidence that you threw a knife at two members of the police force while they were searching your house, the same type of knife – if not exactly the same knife – that is being used in the killings we've been investigating."

"That wasn't me! You're kidding me, right?" Sheridan picked up her radio and muttered into it. Ben tilted his head back and looked at the ceiling and growled. How the hell was he going to get out of this mess?

Three armed officers appeared in the room and one grabbed Ben by his collar, cuffing his hands behind his back with speed and efficiency. The metal bit into his wrists and his newly-healed shoulder burned with pain.

"He didn't kill anyone." Chris said defiantly, looking into Sheridan's eyes.

"You'll have plenty of time to try and get your story straight when you're in jail," Sheridan said, smirking. "I'm arresting you on suspicion of being an accessory to murder. You do not have to say anything-"

"What?!" Chris said, disbelievingly. "This is some kind of joke, right?" Cold metal cuffs snapping around his wrists told him otherwise.

"Sheridan, seriously. You really think they did it?"

"I don't know what to think, Morris. It will be interesting to see if any killings happen when they're stuck in jail won't it?"

"Come on, Sheridan. What about Wyatt?"

"They should have thought of childcare arrangements before they tried to kill us." She relented, rolling her eyes. "Have a sitter on call?"

Chris looked down at the carpet and sighed, muttering bitterly, "She's in the room next door."

"Then it's settled. Take them to the station," Sheridan commanded, a smirk spreading across her features as they shot her death glares as they were frogmarched out of the room with an officer twisting their collars.

"I think we've just cracked this case, Morris. I told you the Halliwells were involves somehow, didn't I? Isn't this the only case in six years involving them that's been solved? There's something weird about them, and I intend to find out what."

Darryl shot one last look at Wyatt before following his partner out of the room, dread weighing heavily upon him.

_**Learning to Tango**_

**As Always: - Alas, no, he doesn't. But he went the whole chapter without being knocked out, a huge plus, right? It only took me six days this time! Lol. Thanks for reviewing.**

**Charmed Amber: - It better bloody turn out alright. Otherwise I'll have to complain to whoever's steering this thing...**

**May-j: - Lol, ok. Thanks a lot.**

**Alexis Rose: - Lol, thanks. And Bridget's always cool! Heh, yeah. Thanks for your review.**

**Claddagh Ring: - Ok, you go off to bed. Charmed is just weird, it's the way things work, lol. **

**Dominique1: - Heh! Lol, thanks a lot for your reviews. They always amuse me. I only took six days this time! I think that needs some kind f reward...**

**There! Done again! Lol, thanks for all your reviews.**


	6. Chapter 6

"S-s-so what's the first s-stage of our plan, sir?" Sigmund stuttered, rubbing his hands together nervously as he followed Gideon about the study. The headmaster was muttering to himself under his breath, his forehead creased into a frown.

"Oh, stage one has already begun, Sigmund. We got her under our care..." He said absently, staring at the rug on the floor.

"W-we did? But I thought-" The assistant blinked in confusion behind his glasses, a small frown that mimicked the headmaster's on his face.

"You thought that Chris brought her here?" Gideon turned to face his assistant and the latter nearly ran into him. "How could a child like that come up with such an idea so spontaneously?" He didn't wait for Sigmund to answer. "Oh, don't get me wrong, he has brains but that... That was me in his head, giving him a little push in the right direction, as it were."

Frustrated and distracted, the boy had been easy to influence. Stupid brat from the future, who did he think he was? But if Gideon could exert power over his mind then he was at least the tiniest bit useful.

"You implanted something in his mind?" Sigmund asked. How far was his master willing to go? Was this going against all the good magic and the Elders stood for?

"Yes, and here she is," Gideon spread his arms, waving one hand over the crystal ball on his desk. It was a familiar gesture that Sigmund has seen the headmaster perform many times to view the Charmed Ones in the crystal ball. Bridget was standing in the middle of her room, her hands balled into fists by her sides and her face screwed up with concentration.

Suddenly she orbed out, only to orb back in on top of the rocking char, decimating it. She swore and picked herself up from the wreckage, her top riding up and showing some of her pregnant stomach. The headmaster glowered darkly at it.

"The child can already orb," Gideon said gravely. "If this child lives to grow up, even the land of the Elders will not be a safe haven." Had that been the idea of the demon? Make sure the Elders would never be safe? Bridget orbed out again, only to reappear in the same spot. She looked exhausted from the effort and sat down on her bed.

"Chris?" Her voice echoed oddly from the depths of the crystal ball. "Chris?" Even with the echo, the two watchers could tell it was a whine. "C'mon, it's boring here and I can't come to you..."

She pouted. She _was_ bored and he could at least come and see her. I mean a quick cuddle and a hello wouldn't be too much to ask, would it?

In a blur of red another form appeared in the room, grinning. Gideon recognized him as the irritating witch from the library. His eyes narrowed. Ah, the _other _future boy. This was getting entirely ridiculous. At least one of the meddlers had already been taken care of, but this one was much closer to Chris...

As the young witch spoke Gideon mulled a few thoughts over in his mind, the corners of his mouth eventually turning up into a smile.

"Hey, Bridget." Wow. They really hadn't given her much space, had they? The room accommodated a single but comfortable-looking bed, a dresser, a bookcase, the obliterated chair as well as a single decorative painting on one of the walls.

"Well at least they sent _some_one." the Hunter said, turning to him.

"Oh, you know you love me," Ben said, hopping up onto the dresser. "Nice chair."

Bridget glowered darkly at the broken rocker. It wasn't fair. Chris was really good at orbing and she was now carrying someone more powerful than him. Why was it so hard? "It got in the way of my orb. Where's Chris?"

"Uh, yeah- About that..." Ben gave her a sheepish grin, scratching the back of his head. He held back a wince and drew a deep breath, waiting for her to explode when she heard the news.

"What did you do?" Bridget asked, with a kind of tired patience.

"Um, well we might have got a little bit – arrested?"

"WHAT?!" Her shriek reverberated off of the stones walls. "You got _arrested?!"_

Ben held out his hands, giving her a warning look. "Calm down, you'll blow something up."

"Thanks for volunteering."

"The sad thing is, I knew you were gonna say that." Ben rolled his eyes.

Sighing she plopped back onto the bed, leaning back in the thick, fluffy pillows. "Meh, don't worry. We don't have that power – yet - It's a pretty cool power, though, so the baby might get it. I can only orb." Bridget looked slightly miserable. "But I'm learning to control that."

"Tell that to the chair." Bridget motioned with her hand and Ben reluctantly came closer. The brunette slapped him on the shoulder. "Hey!" She poked her tongue out at him as he retreated back to the dresser-top.

"So how's Mr. I-can't-orb-to-see-his-knocked-up-best-friend?" Bridget yawned. All this doing nothing was making her sleepy.

"Chris says hi and promises not to take the number of the chick in the cell next to us."

"Don't taunt the pregnant lady," Bridget warned, crossing the room and clipping him around the head. He grinned and ducked.

Suddenly he flew through the air and crashed upside down into the bookcase. There was a loud crack and two of the shelves split, sending a deluge of books on top of the witch.

"Ben!" Bridget ran over to him. One of his sneakers was lodged in one of the shelves and she pulled it free, causing him to land sprawled half on top of the pile with one of his feet by his ear.

"Why is it that every time I come to see you-" he projected out and projected back in on top of the dresser. "- I get another bruise?"

"I'm sorry! The baby-"

"I mean they can stop people getting killed here but they can't stop a bruise or two? Ow."

Bridget was talking to her stomach. "No! Bad. I was only playing. Hurting Ben – while amusing – is bad. Very bad. Don't do it again."

"Oh, way to teach the kid morals."

"Single parent here. Don't mess with me or I might get pissed again."

The leather-bound books had been quite soft and had broken most of the fall to the flagged floor, so Ben wasn't too hurt. As soon as the blood rushed back from his head he'd be ok, probably. Wow, the baby was really packing a punch.

Ben rolled his eyes. "Chris said he loves you and the baby, hopes everything is going well that you'll get through it together. He'll be here in a few hours, once Sheridan realizes we're innocent- or we get bailed." Ben shrugged. "Either's fine with me." He chose to say nothing to her single parent comment, wondering briefly what his friends were going to do after they got out of jail.

Gideon motioned for Sigmund to draw across the heavy velvet drapes as the sunlight began shining on the sphere, fracturing the light inside and disrupting the picture.

"S-sir that was a witch power," Sigmund said, the rings rattling on the poles as the curtain was drawn across.

"Its powers are manifesting themselves quicker than I could ever have imagined. The child can aim from the womb." The Headmaster frowned and rubbed his chin. "Sigmund," he began thoughtfully. "When is the child due?"

"Six months, I think, sir. She's entering her second trimester now."

There was a blur of red in the ball and Bridget was left alone again.

"See what you can find about the date using star charts and the like. There might be some people I can call."

The Elder orbed out and Sigmund scurried out of the door into the corridor to go and do his master's bidding.

_**Learning to Tango**_

"Did you find her? How is she? Is she where I sensed she was?" Ben rubbed the back of his neck with his hand as he pulled his head up. He was sitting on the thin mattress on the bottom bunk of the beds in their cell, knees drawn up to his chest and his chin resting on them

Chris was pacing the cell, running his hands through his hair and trying his best to ignore the shouts of the other inmates. The stressful events of the past week were really starting to show and Ben wondered how soon he would snap and possibly send one of the inmates through a wall or something. The shadows under Chris's eyes looked deeper and purpler in the dim light of the cell. If Chris wasn't careful he was going to make himself sick.

"Hey, c'mon, you gotta have, like, cigarettes or something." Chris gave another withering look to the guy sticking his arm through the bars of the cell.

"I don't smoke." He turned his back on him and looked to his friend. "Well?"

"Bridget's fine," Ben said, shifting slightly as a spring dug into him and pulling a face. "And the baby got a new power," he added brightly.

"Really? What?" Chris paused, and then rolled his eyes. "You didn't piss her off, did you?"

"No! I just - slightly made fun because she landed on a chair and broke it..."

"Right, so you did piss her off?" Chris asked with grin.

Ben grinned. "No more demonic powers for the moment. Baby Lucifer is tk'ing like no one's business." He knew that bit of news would cheer him up a bit, since that was one of his powers. Instead, Chris rolled his eyes, but tiredly this time, more fed up.

"Don't call it that."

"What are you guys on about?" The guy whined. "C'mon, I'm dying over here..."

"You'll be dying in a minute, all right," Ben muttered through gritted teeth. God would that guy EVER shut up?

"Where's Sheridan?" Chris asked, pointedly ignoring the guy with his arm through the bars up to his shoulders and looking around the small jail. There was no one in sight, just prisoners locked up in their cells. Chris was itching to be out of there and with Bridget and he knew Sheridan was making them sweat. It was a technique that Wyatt used all the time, and he was normally impervious to it. The longer Wyatt made him wait the more of his own time the tyrant was wasting. But now Chris actually had something better to do.

"Dammit," Ben said, sighing in frustration.

"What?" Chris asked, turning to Ben again without realizing that he had been pacing.

"Why did they have to make these stupid cells out of metal?"

Chris blinked. "Huh?"

"I mean it's just so tempting to-" The witch wriggled three fingers and Chris saw the bar behind Ben portioning them from an empty cell move out of place and then back again. "You freeze them; I bust us out of here. _But_ we have to be mortals. This sucks, you know that?"

Chris rolled his eyes. "I know what you mean but we can't be innocent until Sheridan clears us. It's not gonna help it we bust out of here."

"Since when did you become the rational one? The world is ending. Bridget's turned into a hormonal basket case and you've gone all responsibility man."

"Not a job I'm going to leave for you, is it?"

"Yeah, great move, Chris. Insult your cellmate," Ben said, stretching his legs out and yawning.

"You guys certainly make a cute couple."

Chris stopped pacing and turned on his heel to face Sheridan, who was standing outside their cell smiling in at them, arms folded across her chest. Ben swivelled off of the bed and got up as well, glaring at her, his fingers twitching.

"What do you want?" Chris asked.

"Nothing. I was just thinking that if you ever broke up with him there'd be so many people in this place willing to take his place. Guys as pretty as you don't stay single for very long."

Chris rolled his eyes and turned away from her, going and sitting on the bed. Was she here just to taunt them or to question them? How long could she keep them here? Nixa's Dad had been a corporate lawyer, and her Mom just a regular lawyer, so she would have known. His shoulders dropped slightly as the thought flitted through his memory.

"Trust me, if me and Chris had something going on, I would be in so much trouble," Ben said, thinking of Bridget. He wanted to be out of this stupid cage already. Sheridan looked at him smugly and Ben wanted to turn her into one big ice statue. And then turn on the heat. Or maybe get a hairdryer and melt a few parts out of shape and then...

He stuffed his hands in his pockets to quell the desire and stared her out. She was the first one to talk.

"Morris and I are ready for you now."

"You'd make a great secretary. Ever thought of working for a principal?" Ben asked.

Sheridan ignored him as she unlocked the cell using the keys on her belt. Ben wondered why she had the keys and where a regular guard was but the door swung open with a whine and she stepped into the cell, her hand on her gun.

Chris looked behind her and saw the two burly officers that she had waiting outside and sighed. He could tell already that this was going to take longer than he wanted it to. He reluctantly got to his feet and went to follow Sheridan out of the cell, Ben behind him.

Sheridan smug smile grew wider as the cold cuffs clicked around his wrists and he resigned himself to numb apathy, willing this day to all be a dream. He needed to feel detached or he would end up screaming and shouting at Sheridan, perhaps not the best way to protest his innocence.

He took out some of his anger by flinging an inmate, who was making kissing motions at him, across his cell in disgust, hearing the satisfying thud of his body hitting the wall. The prisoner's eyes filled with fear and he gingerly crawled onto his bed.

Chris's green eyes were cold and bored by the time Sheridan began interrogating him. He just had to get this over with. It was a routine Wyatt had run him through many times, and he was sure he could beat Sheridan. The Inspector and his brother's eyes were even nearly the same colour. It would just take a bit of thought.

_**Learning to Tango**_

Piper walked through the door tiredly, taking her heels off as she did so and throwing them in the hall closet. Her feet were killing her and she'd been sitting down most of the day. Maybe it was her brain hurting and it was just manifesting itself in her feet. She padded across the foyer and through the parlour.

She was now short-staffed tonight, and the meeting with her drinks supplier had not gone well. They wanted more money, which P3 just wasn't making anymore. Maybe if she was there more often, then she could... But what could she do? Plus she had Wyatt to look after and the world to save and furniture to get repaired. Where could P3 slot into that? She huffed loudly and pulled hair out of her face and into a ponytail before letting it tumble down her shoulders again.

Speaking of Wyatt, she should ask Chris for an update on the latest demon. Not that she really wanted to hear it but if it got her mind off of the club. The possibility of her "grandchild" being the demon flittered across her mind but she shook her head, erasing the thought.

"Chris!" She allowed herself a languid moment and sunk into the couch in the parlour, resting the back of her head on the top of the sofa and closing her eyes. She waited to hear orbing or Chris thundering down the stairs behind her. "Chris?" Her eyes opened, brown and confused.

"If you mean those boys that were here earlier they've gone," a voice said. Piper got up to see the elf making her way down the stairs, a blanket tucked under her arm.

"Gone? Gone where?" Piper stood up, the aching in her feet forgotten. "They just took off? What about Wyatt? What if he'd been attacked?"

"It's a good thing too, the way they really needed to take better care of the poor child... The way they were looking after him it doesn't surprise me that they were arrested." She walked through the Dining Room into the kitchen, tutting.

"WHAT!" Piper shrieked. "Oh, my God." She was back in her heels pushing the shoe hard on the accelerator of her SUV before her brain had registered to even put her keys into the ignition.

_**Learning to Tango**_

"Paige, I'm on my lunch break, and I was going to go shopping." Phoebe said as they emerged from a cloud of orbs in Magic School. The middle sister narrowed her eyes at the witch-whitelighter and pulled her purse higher onto her shoulder.

"Yes, I know that Phoebe. It's not the first time you've told me," Paige said, rolling her eyes and blowing hair out of her face.

Phoebe began her way down the corridor and left Paige behind.

"Well come on," the middle witch urged, eliciting another eye roll from Paige. The witch-whitelighter refused to run after her sister so Phoebe was at the door to Gideon's office before she was.

"Take your time, Paige. I have a column due by the end of today AND a photo shoot for my latest billboard. I don't have time to be here..."

"Oh, please. Did it look like I came to Magic School for exercise?" She raised a hand to knock on the door but it swung open in front of her and she lowered her arm, stepping across the threshold.

"Hi?" Phoebe asked to the empty room. As Paige walked in the door closed behind them with a resounding and ominous thud.

"Hey, Gideon?" Paige took some cautious steps into the headmaster's office and then turned to face Phoebe, her head cocked to one side. "Can you hear an echo in here?"

"It's a huge stone room; of course I can hear an echo in here," Phoebe snapped, pulling the strap of her purse still further onto her shoulder as she spoke, wondering where Gideon was.

The sound of orbs made them both turn and Bridget appeared in the office, her face splitting into a huge grin.

"I did it!" She grinned, starting a little victory dance.

"No, that was me," Gideon's voice said and Bridget's face fell and her posture slumped.

"Oh. Well I tried," She kicked a chair out from in front of the desk and sat on it heavily. Moments later Gideon made himself visible and sat down on the other side of the desk, opposite Bridget.

"Was there something you need to see me about?" He steepled his fingers and rested one ankle on the opposite knee, leaning back into his chair.

Phoebe looked pensive for a moment. "We were wondering how this new situation is going to affect Wyatt and what turns him evil. The usual stuff, you know?"

Gideon seemed to consider his answer. "I think," he began slowly, "that because this did not happen in the original timeline, according to what Chris has alluded to, then Wyatt should remain unaffected by it. I don't think we need to worry."

_No, don't worry. Her demonic spawn will only try to rule the Underworld and kill all good. Not a problem._

"Ok, that's good. Would it be ok if Bridget stayed here until she has the baby?"

"I see no reason to object. We'll make sure she's very comfortable."

"I can protect myself," Bridget said as hurt creeping into her voice. She wasn't some invalid to be protected. She'd certainly fought demons longer than them, and she didn't have magic powers.

Phoebe patted her arm. "I know, but to protect yourself you have to use your demonic powers and we're trying to cut back on those a little, ok?" Bridget sighed. _I didn't always have to..._

"I'm going to kill Chris when he gets out of jail," she said, pouting slightly miserably.

Paige snickered. "Ok, make sure you take a couple of Polaroid's for me, ok?"

"Wait," Phoebe said as her sister rose and walked towards the door. "Did you say jail?"

"Yeah, Ben and Chris were arrested this morning, didn't you know?" She looked from one face to the other and shrugged with an eye roll. "Figures."

"Oh my God, this is huge. Oh!" Phoebe stood up and grabbed Paige's arm. "Orb please."

"Do you have your credit card?" Paige asked.

Phoebe narrowed her eyes suspiciously. "Maybe. Why?"

"Well _someone's_ going to have to bail them out..." Paige said with a small shrug, not looking in her sister's eyes.

"Oh, hey-," Phoebe's protests were lost in a cloud of orbs.

Bridget turned back to Gideon. "I was kinda on my way to the bathroom when I disappeared so would you mind..." She twinkled her fingers and Gideon waved his hand tiredly. "Thank you!" Bridget's disembodied voice called.

Gideon snapped his fingers angrily at the crystal ball and it swirled into life, showing Ben and Chris in their separate interview rooms. Gideon ground his teeth together irritably. Not only were they ruining the cosmic balance by being here they were on the verge of exposing magic.

He waved a vague hand and the ball went dim. And then there was the girl. Something needed to be done and fast – maybe before he set his plan to kill Wyatt in motion. He scratched his chin thoughtfully and slid open a drawer with telekinesis. He reached inside and pulled out the tray of various confiscated magical artefacts and revealed that the tray was just a false bottom. Underneath it, in a comfortable-looking niche of deep purple velvet was an athame with an inlaid rosewood handle.

He tucked it into his robes, carefully concealing it and swept out of the room.

_**Learning to Tango**_

"Seriously, would it kill you to stock a couple or romance novels?" Bridget was demanding of one of the student librarians. The poor kid was looking bewildered.

"Uh... w-w-well this _is _a research library..."

"So! That doesn't mean that I don't want-"

"Bridget, there you are. I've thought of something that might help, would you care to go back to my office?"

Bridget's head whipped around to face the voice, and then she realized that it was Gideon. "Only if you talk some sense into this library. I mean how you can have such a huge collection of books without anything by... I don't know, Josey McLellan?"

"Who?" Bridget rolled her eyes.

"I make sure that my students don't have such large gaps in their lives that they need romance novels," Gideon said, taking her by the elbow. He could feel the cold of the blade pressing against his body.

"My life is not empty!" Bridget said, indignant. "Is it?" Gideon shook his head and began to speak quietly to the student before leading her back to his office. Privacy was the key here...

She stared over Gideon's shoulder at the painting hanging behind his desk. She was vaguely aware of him talking to her but there was a woman staring into a crystal ball, a long red, flowing dress hung just above the tiled floor and on the table in front of her a large tome had what looked like a magic wand resting on the page, and beside the book a skull rested. Bridget shuddered as she stared into the cold eye sockets.

What was the woman seeing in the crystal ball? Something to do with the skull? There was definitely something contained in the orb, was it a landscape. She huffed and sat back on the chair. Maybe Gideon was a seer in a previous life. Crystal balls were a definite theme here.

There weren't enough colours in here. A rainbow would be nice. And it was stuffy; maybe some fresh air would be good too. Or maybe it was Gideon who was stuffy. She smiled slightly and she could tell by Gideon's face that it was the wrong place to insert a smile and stopped, imagining somewhere nice and green...

A fluttering began inside her stomach and she ignored it. They could really do with some food around this place, too. The fluttering grew and grew and a small tingle ran down her spine as her body broke into a cloud of orbs.

She gave startled shriek before the baby forced her to leave the office behind.

_**Learning to Tango**_

Chris's wrist was swollen and a little purple by the time he made his way out of the interview room. He guessed he's pulled a little too hard against the cuffs when Sheridan decided he was too dangerous just to sit in a chair and not attack her and insisted he be restrained. She hated him, just because she didn't understand his family.

Bitch.

But she hadn't proven him guilty, especially as there was no evidence that he had even been anywhere near the crime scenes and that he had been with them when the athame had been thrown at them. No evidence, but she would find something, or at least try to.

"Wait, where are we going?" Chris suddenly realized that they were on their way back to the cell. He thought Sheridan was done.

Ben was sitting on the bed, leaning against the barred wall behind him when the door swung open. The witch looked defeated, glum, and Chris's heart sank.

"What's wrong?"

"Darryl says the only record they have of me is three parking tickets my Dad got in the nineties," Ben muttered bitterly, the sigh evident in his voice.

Chris looked to the floor. "We don't exist."

"Not on paper at least. This is going to take a dumper truck full of memory dust."

"Does Sheridan know?"

"Probably."

They were so screwed. Sheridan knew that they didn't exist and when she tried to bust them for it she would manage to just dig a deeper and deeper hole. How could they have been so careless?

"You know what?" Ben said, standing up. "This has gone from bad to worse. But," he said, brightening, "we can't get the Death Penalty for fraud!"

Chris rolled his eyes, rubbing his wrist absently. Ben was saying something again, probably very sarcastic but Chris barely heard. There were echoes in his head, and it sounded like someone was trying to call him. It was faint though, tinny, like a poorly turned radio.

"-and suddenly, bang, we've been arrested. If my parents were alive I would so be grounded. And I bet your Mom is leaving us here just because we wouldn't tell her about the future and gave us a few grey hairs. I mean just a couple-"

There was another noise again in his head. Was it Ben babbling? Was someone calling him? He closed his eyes and heard a slight whisper in his head. But it was a whisper that sounded like it should be a shout.

"Bridget," he murmured.

"Yeah, I know. You would have thought she might have been a tiny bit more concerned, I mean-"

"No! I think, I think she needs me."

Ben snorted. "Well it's cute that you have this whole thing going on but-"

"Project. Now. Go! She's-" He stopped, shaking his head slightly and frowning. "I don't... Maui?"

"Whoa, back up. How did Bridget get to Hawaii? And why is she calling you? She knows we're in jail-"

"Shut the hell up and get out!" Chris snapped, glaring. "She might be hurt or something and I can't go!"

Ben rolled his eyes. "Since when was I her Spaniel?" His head drooped onto his chest and his breathing became slow and deep.

_**Learning to Tango**_

Bridget was pacing on the top of a cliff, yelling out to the sky. Her throat had been nearly torn out calling for Chris. Hell even Leo would have done but she couldn't seem to be able to get him either.

Ok, granted, there had been lots to look at here. Hawaii was beautiful. The sea was that lovely kind of blue and there were sweet-smelling flowers and a rainbow that was slowly fading arced across a bay. But she was meant to be in Magic School, not in freaking Maui.

She growled and several birds took flight, squawking in alarm as a fireball incinerated the tree they were sitting in.

"Bridget?"

"Are you guys _still_ in jail?" Bridget demanded, whirling around and framing herself against the smouldering tree.

"There were a couple of minor complications," Ben shrugged, holding up his finger and thumb about an inch apart and sitting down on the grass, stretching out his legs, taking a lungful of the sea air. "The view here is nicer than the grey wall they give you in jail."

"Well while you're sightseeing I'll just stand here and fight the urge to strangle you."

"What, and turn this face blue? Why would you do such a thing?" Bridget crossed her arms and cocked an eyebrow at him. "Oh, come on, Bridget."

"Ben, I'm tired and I'm hungry and as much as I love Maui, I really just want to sleep!"

Something had shifted inside her and she felt herself collapse in total defeat. This was all wrong, wrong, WRONG! She felt her breathing come laboured gasps and tears welled up in her eyes.

"Hey, come on. What's wrong?" He moved to touch her but she pulled away, her lips trembling.

"I don't know, maybe it's..." She began to feel a familiar fluttering in her stomach. "Oh, oh no..." She disappeared in a swirl of orbs.

"Hormones?" Ben said with a smile, taking one last lungful of the fresh, clean air before disappearing also.

_**Learning to Tango**_

"You two so owe me, you know that?" Piper said, flipping hair out of her face and glancing in the rear-view mirror as she turned sharply down 82nd street.

Chris felt a twinge of regret, feeling like the time Piper had found out that Wyatt and himself had thrown a party while she was gone for a weekend. "Sorry, Mom, I kind of haven't had my allowance from you in a while."

Piper narrowed her eyes at him in the mirror as she made a turn. "That's not funny." She paused, sorely tempted to blow up the fuel tank of the guy in the sports car behind as he tried to get past. City driving was manic. She fought the urge to blow him up and/or flip him off, as he finally got past, flashing his headlights and looked back in the mirror again. "You know, my meeting at P3 kind of didn't go so well. I'm kind of understaffed tonight."

"Mom." Chris whined, already not liking where this was going.

"Oh, come on. I need to up spending at the bar and you know - Maybe a couple of attractive bartenders?" Piper chewed her bottom lip hopefully.

Ben snorted. "Heh. Well if you put it like that-"

"Way to drop us in it." Chris muttered darkly, staring out of the window.

Where was Bridget now? He was pretty sure she was back in Magic School but still. Tending the bar tonight? When all he wanted to do was be with her? He could see San Francisco darkening as it whizzed past and he sighed.

Piper pulled into the driveway of the manor and turned the car off, twisting in her seat to look at the two boys. She was still trying to get used to the fact that this was her son sitting before her. Her other one; the one that wasn't conceived yet. Maybe she and Leo needed to work on that.

"I know." she stopped. What did she really know? Truly? Did she know what the future was like under Wyatt? Did she really _know_ anything? "I know that this has been a really hard week for you guys. I know you're feeling like you screwed up," _Getting arrested by Sheridan._ "And I know that a lot of stuff happened that none of us were expecting." _Nixa dead... Bridget pregnant... _"But we deal. WE have to keep moving on and you guys have done a great job of that. So I want you both to head upstairs and get some sleep, because I know that you didn't the other night."

There was sudden warmth in Chris's green eyes as the boys looked up at her tiredly and nodded. Energy had been replaced with fatigue and Piper could see two pairs of glassy irises staring back at her. The purple shadows that Chris sported under his eyes moved her the most. He was only twenty-two years old, dammit. "Now that Bridget is staying at Magic School, you guys can stay here, okay? So head upstairs and I'll wake you guys up this evening."

They nodded again and slowly exited the car and Piper watched them before grabbing her purse, wondering if she had somehow failed as a mother. She chewed on her bottom lip as she took the keys out of the ignition and locked the door with them.

This was not her best week ever.

_**Learning to Tango**_

_Stubborn little..._ Gideon stormed around his office, robes billowing behind him. He ground his teeth angrily and snarled. The brat inside of her had orbed her away. Dammit! He threw the inlaid athame out of pure frustration and it stuck, quivering, in the bookshelf.

The door clicked as he telekinetically locked it and the shutters banged closed over the high windows. Almost in complete darkness and privacy he dragged the heavy velvet drapes across with his mind and plunged the room into complete darkness. A wave of his hand sent a three-armed candelabrum sputtering to life and it was by the flickers of the small flames that he wrenched aside a curtain, revealing himself in a very large and ornate mirror that had a table with chess pieces on it set out, black and whites scattered all over the board.

"It's all in place," Gideon told his reflection. A diamond stud that wasn't present in the ear of the Gideon looking in the mirror winked in the light of the candles on the desk behind the reflection. Gideon smirked and sat down on the chair in front of the chessboard, but his reflection remained standing and when the reflection started talking again the headmaster's lips don't move.

"We've got the girl where we want her and the path to the boy is getting clearer by the minute. Soon we'll be able to kill the great good..."

"...evil..."

"...and an immense good..."

"...evil..."

"...power." The both ended simultaneously, pressing their palms against the cold reflective surface and grinning.

_**Learning to Tango**_

**Ok, linky chapter there. The next one shall have more action in, dammit, even if it kills me. Ok, I am very tired and I have a whole two weeks of exams looming, which I am so totally thrilled about so I shall get the next chapter out whenever I can. **

**Latah,**

**Twisted Flame.**

**Darkness Amber: - Yes, they were. Lol. No one likes Sheridan, it's ok. Thanks for reviewing.**

**Dominique1: - HEH! Lol, a cookie would have been fine with me. Really. Heh. It took me less than a month! I have no inspiration lately. And thus chapter was too linky for me to get really into, so it took longer. Thanks for reviewing.**

**Stony Angel: - Yay! Happy Birthday to You Thanks for you review. I have a twisted view of happily ever after. I never like fairy tales. Damn them. Thanks for reviewing. Happy smiley me, now.**

**Claddagh Ring: - Did I read it and review? I'm sure I did. My brain is so scattered recently. Thank you so much, though! Heh, six days, nearly a month. Yeah, I know. Ouch.**

**Charmed Amber: - Well he probably is cute if you cut out the whole Ruler of all Evil thing he has going. Lots of people want to slap Sheridan. Heh. I think she might just be going down...**

**As Always: - Bridget got to go to a pretty place. There. Lol. Thanks for reviewing. It's not really late here, but I'm feeling kind of bleugh that way anyways, so don't worry. I guest this reply will probably make less sense than your review so I wouldn't worry at all. Thank you!**


	7. Chapter 7

Phoebe and Paige materialized in all their squabbling glory in the kitchen. They had been to the jail and found out that Ben and Chris had already been bailed out, and because of this detour, Phoebe had missed her after-lunch photo shoot and Elise had told her to just go home because after wasting the photographer's time there was no point in her staying.

Not that that was particularly fair. It wasn't as if it was Phoebe that ordered a new billboard practically every month. It was her column and she knew that the readers she got for it were mainly because of Elise's advertising… but still. She liked to think that her readers came to her for her good advice and not the amount of skin she showed off on her billboards.

"Well you know what, Phoebe? _You're _the one who's supposed to be _psychic_, not me," Paige huffed sarcastically as she let go of Phoebe.

"Well I'm sorry to inconvenience you Miss Perfect, but even when I _could_ get premonitions, they never told me things that I _wanted_ to know!" the middle sister shot back, obviously irritated.

As Phoebe turned on her designer heel, Paige stuck out her tongue at her sister's back and followed her through the dining room, waving her hands for emphasis. "Okay, firstly, it's not like the photographer didn't reschedule and, please, Elise has been mad at you before. Like, practically every week, so why are you-?"

"Hey, what's all of this noise about?" Piper asked, coming down the stairs. She was dressed for the night at P3 and holding Wyatt's bottle in one hand. "I only just got Wyatt off to sleep and I promised that nanny that this would be one night he would sleep right through."

"We're just discussing how _Paige_ made me miss a photo shoot," Phoebe said, glaring at her sister.

"Well I'm sorry for wanting to bail the guys out of jail."

"Hey, hey, what's with the bickering all of a sudden?" Piper asked, looking from one of her sisters to the other.

"I don't know; you'll have to ask Phoebe."

"Well people could be asking Phoebe if Phoebe was still _at work_ instead of being sent home!" Phoebe fought the urge to stamp her foot. Looking childish would only make her lose ground. And it might break her heel.

"_Children_, shush," Piper mimed zipping her mouth closed, holding onto the banister with her other hand until Paige and Phoebe stopped arguing. "Now go upstairs, put on some party clothes and get ready. We're all off to P3 for a nice, happy, NORMAL and most definitely demonic free evening. Go on, scat!" She pointed up the stairs and, their eyes still full of argumentative spirit, the sisters walked side by side up the stairs, each trying to reach the top before the other without making it look like that that was what they were trying to do.

As her sisters walked past her, Piper allowed herself a satisfied smile as she continued down the rest of the stairs and to the kitchen with the empty bottle in her hand.

_**Learning to Tango**_

"Would it have killed you to let us _orb?_" Paige demanded from the backseat of Piper's SUV as the oldest sister swung the vehicle into her parking space and killed the engine.

"Normal people don't orb, Paige. That's one of the reasons why people in our house are so hard to keep track of. _Normal_ people use handy inventions called doors, they don't _do_ instant translocation."

Paige rolled her eyes. "And how come Phoebe got shotgun?"

"Because I'm older than you…" Phoebe was checking her reflection in the mirror in the sun visor and took the opportunity to stick her tongue out at Paige.

"And, therefore, more wrinkly, no?" Paige quipped, a sarcastic smile lighting her face as she reached for the door. Phoebe narrowed her eyes at her sister while Piper rolled hers, and Paige slid out of the car and led the way across the parking lot walking backwards, poking her tongue out at Phoebe.

"You know, I think Wyatt's twice as mature than you two," Piper said, slamming the car door and locking the SUV with the remote, a weary, exasperated tone filling her voice. You would think that they might have matured as they neared thirty. Apparently not.

"And twice as cute and loveable," Paige admitted, rolling her eyes. "We know."

A wave of noise hit them as they used the private side entrance and as Piper closed and locked the door behind them the band only got louder.

"Great band," Paige commented, already dancing slightly on the spot.

Piper said nothing, only smiled as they picked their way through the crowd, holding onto Phoebe's hand in an attempt not to get swept away from each other, working their way towards the curtained VIP area at the other end of the club. Paige paused to catch the eyes of a guy on the dance floor and he grinned back, before a woman grabbed his arm and led him further into the centre of the crush.

She pulled a disappointed face. The best ones were always taken. She looked back at where her sisters had been standing and there was a surging mass of bodies going to and from the dance floor. Well it was nice of them to wait for her at least… She rolled her eyes quickly, keeping the time that they saw blackness to a minimum should any cutie want to try and catch them. No such luck, at least not yet…

Around the bar in the center all of the stools were full – not unusual – but young woman filled them all. Raising an eyebrow, Paige began making her way purposefully towards the bar. Maybe Piper had hired not only a great band but a new bartender too. And since the boss was already taken maybe the boss's sister could get a whirl…

Paige was not above subtly using her elbows once in a while and soon found herself squeezed between two stools leaning on the bar.

"Paige!" She looked up from her purse, zipping it closed and smiling at the fact that she was not another face in this sea of young anonymity. Basking in jealous looks, she glanced up into Chris's face.

She could almost hear the needle racing off of the record as the moment cut. Her heart sank. Great, so she was known to her nephew. That made her feel so pretty.

"Hey- Chris? Piper gave you a job here?" Hm, her sister had kept that one quiet.

She didn't think Chris had heard her because from under the counter he pulled two bottles and went to the other side of the wall of central lava lamps, using an opener fixed on the counter to pop the tops and then he handed them out.

"It's more to do with the fact that she put our bail on her credit card," Ben told her quietly. Or as quietly as you could in a packed club while having to compete with music. She blinked. That would explain it. He scratched the back of his head and looked sheepish and bewildered at the same time. And overwhelmed. The poor kid looked _very_ overwhelmed.

Okay, she had no intention of flirting with the guys but she couldn't help her self-esteem cranking up a notch, as the jealous looks intensified. These girls thought that she could be a threat to them. All of them younger than her and wearing clothes that looked like they were here to go trawling for sailors as well. A blonde narrowed her eyes at her and Paige snorted. Dye job.

"Yeah, she's got you a little trapped there, I guess." Paige commented. "Can I get a mineral water or something?"

Ben gave her a bottle with a blue straw and disappeared off to serve someone else. She took the bottle off of the bar and went to go and join her sisters in the VIP area, getting waylaid when the blonde girl from the bar bumped into her and tipped the mineral water in her hand down her top. There was a slight sparkle of orbs invisible in the pulsating lights of the club and the girl's already-too-revealing top became see-through as the water sloshed down her front, leaving Paige relatively dry.

"Whoops," the Charmed One said with a smirk, stalking off through the crowd and leaving the blonde seething.

_**Learning to Tango**_

"Paige! Come, sit!" Piper said, swatting Phoebe on the shoulder and making her shuffle up on the couch. Phoebe moved up and Paige sat between her sisters. "What took you so long?" Piper asked, making a space on the table for Paige's half a bottle of water.

"Cutie on the dance floor," she said, waving a hand at the side of her head and sighing satisfactorily. "I guess I'm just a guy magnet."

Piper cocked an eyebrow at her.

"Well he had a date but still," Paige admitted. "Ruin a gal's fun, why don't you? So, Ben and Chris as bartenders? Was that a move to boost business or were you just fed up with them being lazy layabouts and getting arrested?" She took up her bottle and sipped through the straw.

"What makes you think they didn't want to work here, Paige?" Piper asked with a slight laugh. It was Paige's turn to arch an eyebrow at the false laugh and Piper sighed. "Business needed a little boosting, I guess. Which reminds me, didn't you come here to sit at the bar and look pretty?"

"I don't think we came prepared to compete. Not enough skin on show," Paige told her sister, settling back down into the cushions.

Piper made a noise of agreement. "Yeah… Maybe we should go for the guys' spending another night, huh?"

_**Learning to Tango**_

Ben grinned to himself as he took the bills and put them in the register, already skilled enough to whip his fingers out of the way as the thing shut. It tended to bite you if you weren't quick enough. Another thing Piper hadn't briefed him on when she'd persuaded him to take a job here.

But working made thinking about demons and threats and the world ending so much harder. When did he have _time_ to think about being consumed by a fireball when there were people to serve, money to take and anvil-subtle flirting to ignore?

It was the flirting that probably amused him most. His eyes scanned the crowd around the bar and wondered how many piles of ashes he would have to clear up should Bridget appear here and get slightly mad at the attention that both he and Chris were getting. Well not so much him but Chris. Maybe it would just be one big pile of ash, instead of lots of different ones.

And then maybe they could compress it all into diamonds. Bridget would be happy about that. She was a sucker for most shiny things.

As someone vacated the bar and left the tiniest amount of space he cleaned it almost absently before someone created another ring on it by putting their glass down on it. He rolled his eyes. That was kind of expected, he guessed.

The other bartender for the night, Lindsey, moved to get past him while he was in his daydream. Night dream, he guessed, for a nightclub. She was a plain-looking woman with very straight, mousy brown hair and seemed to be holding a grudge against Ben and Chris for just turning up and getting paid without even having an interview and without Piper having told the rest of the staff. But she just seemed to blend into the background so he never really noticed her until she tutted because they were in her way or not doing the job properly, or whatever she classed at properly.

So as she shifted past him, taking up more space than was needed, he wasn't surprised to hear her muttering under her breath and generally complaining. Ben rolled his eyes and moved, walking off to serve someone else. It wasn't his fault that she had a chip on her shoulder.

_**Learning to Tango**_

Chris's brain was managing to snatch moments of peace here and there among the chaos of serving drink after drink. Faces blurred and so did the figures on the notes, making him wonder how in hell he was managing to give these people the right change.

In the moments of peace all he could think about was asking himself why he was standing here behind a bar when he could be looking up demons that were threatening Wyatt? Why was he here when there was an entire _future_ to save? He looked around the club, and the glowing neon signs and pulsating lights had never seemed brighter.

This place was quiet in the future. Hung thick with white cobwebs and with plaster and God knows what else littering the floor, crunching under your shoes. The wax from the lava lamps littered the area that used to be the bar in huge, multi-coloured chunks and a girder had fallen and smashed up the stage in a demonic attack that had nearly cost so many people their lives.

It was nothing _like_ this, which only served to remind him that it needed to be changed so desperately. It only served to make him not want to be here more. He wanted to be on the much-repaired couch in the attic with the Book of Shadows' yellowed parchment pages crackling as he turned them, the sepia leather spine creaking as it shifted on his lap. He had always been able to feel the power around the book, from so many generations of Halliwells past. From Melinda Warren to him and now to his unborn child the ancient lineage would flow on.

When Wyatt had stolen the Book of Shadows with Chris's own blood it was almost as if part of his powers had gone too, locked away in Wyatt's vault that he had stolen from a San Francisco banking firm.

But the Book rested on its podium in the Halliwell attic, safe and secure and most definitely not a hologram. The magic and power would be there to pass down to his child when it was born. He (or she) could be wiccaned and invited into the family. The name Halliwell could continue into the future, the powers could continue into the future.

Well perhaps not. Perhaps the kid would take Bridget's last name instead of his. Yup, he could see that arguing, and who was he to argue after all? Maybe it would be the name Vance that continued on the ancient line.

Who knew?

It occurred to him that perhaps having a twenty dollar bill hovering over the cash drawer was perhaps not the best way to do his job and he stuffed it under the clip with a group of others, closing the till and reaching for a glass to fulfil the order that the cash had been intended for.

Lindsey's hand reached for the same glass and, determined to get to it first, the plain woman knocked Chris's hand into the metal of one of the lava lamps. Chris withdrew his hand suddenly, knocking four glasses to the floor and involuntarily using telekinesis to tip over the lamp.

The thick glass cracked as it hit the floor and the steaming liquid began to bubble through. The glass eventually shattered from the heat and pressure, a flood of the fluid bubbling across the floor. Liquid wax quickly began hardening as it reached the cool air and he saw Ben yank the cord out of the wall as the liquid threatened to creep into the still-smoking filament and cause a short or a fire.

Chris stuck the back of his hand in his mouth like a petulant child and pouted, sucking on the wound as if saliva was some kind of heal-all. It was HOT dammit. He looked at Lindsey and she only gave him a glare of contempt back and served another patron, as if _she_ was the all-suffering one.

He took his hand from his mouth and inspected the small red burn, grabbing an ice cube from the bucket under the counter and putting it on the wound, letting it melt and soothe his blistered skin.

Ben threw down bar towels onto the floor to mop up the spill and crunched over the glass to try and keep serving people. Chris pulled a face, heaving an internal sigh. It could be worse; it could have brought his mother over. That could have got nasty really fast. He recalled Piper keeping a broom and perhaps a mop in the backroom he had shared with Ben and dutifully slipped out from behind the bar to go and retrieve it, tossing the ice cube back into its bucket without caring about any health and safety rules that should probably apply. He seemed to remember a First Aid kit bolted to the wall in there too.

As he entered the room and closed the door behind him the noise from the club barely quieted. It didn't even sound muted through the door. He went over to the First Aid kit first, routing through the white plastic case in the half light. Band aids and bandages… Nope. There were some hot/cold packs things that were probably for bruises or muscle damage… although maybe the cold would help the burn?

First Aid _manual…_ '_First you clean the wounded area',_ perhaps? Chris snorted, pulling out a pair of tweezers and some thin, sharp scissors. His arms were getting full so he began throwing it all on the couch behind him.

Who did she think she was? She had so done that on purpose She was just jealous because they'd got a job without an interview. If she had done that to Bridget, she would be sucking food through a straw right now. Too bad he didn't have that kind of personality. Maybe it was because he was half Elder? That was probably it. You never saw Elders going around using teeth for necklaces. Not that Bridget had done that.

Well, once. But they _had_ been shark's teeth.

He thought.

He growled in frustration, throwing four pairs of what were apparently non-latex gloves onto the couch with a flashlight and a spare set of batteries. Safety pins, soap - nope. Some gauze and a thermometer. Gods, they could supply about four hospitals for a year with this. Sticky tape and sticky… bandages? Chris pulled a face.

There was some antiseptic cream and some alcohol wipes. Both sounded like they would sting like hell. He eventually used his teeth to tear open the alcohol wipe and hissed as it burned, turning for a Band Aid and dimly recognizing that the flashlight was missing from the pile.

It wasn't until the heavy-duty light connected with the base of his skull that it clicked that it was missing. And by then everything seemed to be getting darker anyway, so what did it matter that something so insignificant had gone missing?

Chris suddenly realized that he was on the floor, his wrist throbbing and scrabbling for possession on slick linoleum. Through a dark haze that was actually starting to clear he saw a curtain of blonde hair, half-hiding a crazed face. The lips were twisted into sneer, the teeth drawn into a snarl.

Her eyes were wild and crazy and glinting. Strange yellow-green eyes, the eyelids of which had been fluttering at him across the bar for most of the night and had been ignored. Chris blinked his own green eyes slowly, reaching for the back of the couch to pull himself up.

The flashlight whistled through the air and cracked his fingers sharply and, halfway up, he fell back to the floor groaning. Dancing black dots were preventing his telekinetic aiming. He threw up his hands and the flashlight bounced off his knuckles, and his gut reaction was to hug them close to his chest to protect them,

"Witch!" She shrieked, spit spraying onto his chest. He could feel some of the larger droplets through his shirt. "Stay down you demonic scum!"

Hm. Definitely not a fan of Wicca, then.

He guessed getting flung around by demons had made him resilient to getting hit over the head. That might not be the best thing to write on a résumé but it was not a bad trait, in all honesty. The haze retreated to the edges on his vision and Chris saw that his attacker's top was damp and clinging to her in some places, as if she'd spilled her drink down it.

When the rubber casing of the light cracked against his temple, however, being able to see someone's bellybutton through their top became much less of an issue as the obscurity hovering at the peripheries of his perspective suddenly descended all at once.

_**Learning to Tango**_

"Jeez, your friend is such a wimp," Lindsey said savagely as she and Ben shifted past each other for the umpteenth time that night.

Ben scowled at her while mixing a Yeager Bomb. Thank whomever that in the future they had done some rudimentary bartending for Piper. Not that she was going to be told about it. He wasn't sure if she would approve of that or not. "You burnt his hand." Of course, she'd probably freak out that she had let Bridget have drinks as the Hunter had only turned 20 about three weeks ago…

"No, he burnt his hand and made it look like it was my fault," the bartender replied; only forcing the dislike Ben had for her to run deeper. "And then he goes and takes a break when we're this busy, like that's fair."

This was the most the woman had said to him all night and Ben's eyes narrowed. Was she trying to turn him against Chris? Maybe she just didn't like Chris. Maybe that was it. But then why was he any different? He had seen her shove his hand into the lamp. Bitch.

When she realized that he was still supporting his best friend she stopped talking to him, ostracizing him even more.

Where _was_ Chris? It wasn't like him to duck out of work. He didn't like dumping things on other people, so where had he gone? He turned back to Lindsey again; who was mixing drinks, and frowned. Maybe she might have had something to do with it? He knew he was reaching far but still. Had she burned his hand to get him out of the way and get him attacked? He doubted she was _demonic_ it was just that, well… You could never really trust mortals, he had learned that when his old principal had tried to kill him.

And this person going around murdering young guys was supposedly a mortal. Darryl said that he had no reason to suspect otherwise, it was just the type of weapon used – athames – that led him to think something was wrong.

When Darryl said 'wrong' he meant supernatural. Being a witch wasn't _wrong_ though, was it? Only in the eyes of certain bigots and, of course, Evil. That was Evil with a capital 'e'. How could it not be, all that was out there? Or under there… It unnerved Ben to think that way under his feet there might be a hoard of demons waiting and plotting or maybe even chanting.

So was Chris all right? Ben chewed on his bottom lip. What if Lindsey _was_ involved? Someone grabbed his sleeve and pulled him out of his trance. He looked into a pair of weird, green-yellow eyes that were just below blonde bangs partly obscuring her forehead.

"Yeah?" Ben asked, startled by her sudden boldness.

"You were just staring off into space…" she said.

Mascara-coated eyelashes fluttered at him, and he fought the urge to roll his eyes. "Yeah, I'm kind of tired. You want a drink?"

"Yeah." She reached into her purse and pulled out some money. "Do you want to get yourself something too?"

He knew that, strictly speaking, any money that was spent on drinks for him by the patrons should go into the tip jar on the small central island, but he _was_ thirsty. He decided that accepting a mineral water wouldn't kill of Piper's business and took the money, mixing her a drink and leaving his open bottle of water on the counter before smiling his thanks and going to serve someone else.

From up her sleeve the blonde pulled a small vial of clear fluid and, looking around, tipped its entire contents into the bottle and swirled the pellucid liquid to let it dissolve until not a trace could be noticed.

_**Learning to Tango**_

The posters on the walls swam in and out of Chris's line of vision, blurred colours and faces all merging into one. There was a sharp pain in his right temple, just behind his eye and he didn't remember how it had got there.

When he tried to put his hand to his head to see if there was any blood there to give him a clue as to how he had ended up like this they both came with him.

He frowned, looking down at his hands and snorted with slight laughter. They were bound together with the tape had had pulled out of the First Aid box. Huh, that stuff was stickier than you thought… As he struggled to pull his wrists apart his head pounded. Screw this, was he a witch or not?

But even telekinesis somehow couldn't unpeel the tape and he used the couch to pull himself up again. The pins and needles in his feet combined with the tape around his ankles caused him to fall flat on his face. Until now he hadn't realized lino could burn your skin when you skimmed across it. Reaching up to inspect the burn on his chin with his fingertips, the posters on the wall lurched again and his vision filled with black.

_**Learning to Tango**_

Ben was feeling light-headed. He didn't know why and sipping the water that the woman with freaky eyes had bought him wasn't helping. He could have sworn that it hadn't been this hot in here earlier. Did someone turn up the heat? He used his sleeve to wipe his forehead and unbuttoned the cuffs, rolling them up to his elbows. Wow, it was hot…

The music was too loud in his ears and the faces around the bar began to spin and fade and blur. He blinked slow and hard.

"You okay?" Lindsey asked. Ben wondered if he was imagining the concern in his voice as spots began swimming across his vision. She touched his elbow and he pulled back, stumbling slightly.

"I'm _fine_," he muttered, draining the rest of his water and clutching the bar for support.

"Jeez, no need to bite my head off or anything. If you're so _fine_ then get back to work." She stalked away from him.

Ben turned around and tried taking a drink order with spots swimming about in front of his vision. He took a couple of deep breaths and decided that finding Chris was more important then him being sick or working the bar and ignored the man asking for a drink.

"Where are you going?" Lindsey demanded. "Are you going to desert me too?" She held up the ice bucket. "There's no ice left, if you need to take a timeout then do so while getting some ice!"

Ben waved a vague hand at the plastic insulated tub in her hand, not thinking straight. "There's plenty of ice," he told her. She obviously hadn't seen it appear. That was stupid. _Stupid._ Anyone could have seen him doing that. Something was affecting his judgement…

Lindsey blinked and shrugged, turning back to the bar.

He made a drunken line through the club to the back room where he had been sleeping, stopping along the way to shake his head to dispel the blue floating lights that were attacking his eyesight. He sat down on an empty chair and thought he saw the woman with freaky eyes staring at him, but when he looked again she was gone. He was just seeing things.

He got up again. Was Chris hurt? Was that why he hadn't come back to the bar? He dimly realized that a few people were looking at him strangely but he ignored them. Maybe he should have gone and got the Charmed Ones. This was stupid, doing this on his own. Backup would have been a good idea, he guessed as the door handle stopped him falling flat on his face.

The band began playing one of their more famous songs and the crowd cheered and stood up. The sudden surge in motion caused Ben to stumble through the door, hitting his face on the arm of the couch. That felt like a black eye. The crowd was cheering; some were even singing along.

The door closed behind him, but he wasn't the one who closed it. He rolled over, fighting as his stomach clenched as he threatened to throw up. The dark and empty barrel smelled of metal and gunpowder as his eyes focused on the gun pointing at his head.

_**Learning to Tango**_

Piper crossed her legs and leaned forward, picking up her glass and taking a couple of sips before putting it down. Paige elbowed Piper in the ribs and Piper jumped slightly, looking blankly into her sister's eyes.

"Huh?"

"Are you feeling okay, sweetie?" Phoebe asked concernedly, reaching out to touch Piper's forehead.

Piper slapped her hand away. "I'm _fine_ Phoebe. And I don't have a fever."

"Well it never hurts to check…" Phoebe settled back into the cushions and looked at Piper over the rim of her glass. Like that time with the South American fruit fly and Piper dying.

Piper sighed in exasperation. "Now what?" Couldn't anyone get some alone time around here? Well she knew that she was in a club full of people but she'd just been staring into space, not exactly hurting anyone.

"Nothing! You're just not having fun." Phoebe said, lamely it seemed.

"I'm just really tired… And I have a lot to think about, you know?" Piper sighed slightly, putting both hands in her lap. "I have a club to run and a son to mother- _two_ sons to mother and demons to kill, I'm going to be a grandmother before my _oldest_ turns _two_, and _somewhere_ in there I've got a life to lead and I just haven't been doing that recently!"

Piper looked at her sisters to see if that had thrown them off of the trail. It seemed to have worked and she breathed an internal sigh of relief. That had been so much easier than telling her sisters that she was thinking that she would have to have sex with Leo again to make Chris. She rubbed the side of her neck and cleared her throat, hoping that it was too dark for them to notice the redness creeping up the side of her neck.

"Aw… It'll be okay, honey… It'll all work out…" Phoebe reached out to take Piper's hand and Piper smiled, pushing hair out of her face. She picked up her glass again. She was going to have fun. She deserved to, for a little while anyway. Her glass was empty and she rattled ice cubes at the bottom and sighed.

She looked towards the bar, seeing Paige's bottle drained and Phoebe's Sea Breeze barely covering the ice at the bottom. There was Lindsey, being her usual sullen self. Piper has definitely not hired her for her personality, but she had excellent references and had so much experience that it probably would have been bad not to hire her, because some other club would have got her first.

There was Lindsey and- "Uh, where are the boys?" Piper asked, frowning and standing up, still not fully able to see over the crowd. She mentally grumbled, wondering how it was that Chris had got so tall, before walking through the throng of people towards the central bar.

Lindsey looked harassed. She never normally looked like this, but the crowd around the bar was jeering at her, wanting drinks that she didn't have the time to go and get. The poor girl only had one pair of hands and Piper could tell that she was dog-tired already.

"Lindsey?" Piper called, pushing past a man.

"Sorry Piper, I'm swamped here…" the young woman said as she breezed past, skidding two beers down the counter and shaking a drink as she popped the top off of an orange juice.

"Where are the boys?" Piper asked over the music as Lindsey walked in front of her again.

"Does it _look_ like I have time to care?" The bartender snapped.

"Well where did they go? Were they okay?" Two people on either side were jostling Piper and she growled at the back of her throat. "Easy, bub."

"Chris hurt his hand and went to the First Aid kit. And then Rick-"

"-Ben-"

"-whatever his name is went after him. Looked drunk. Maybe he'd been at the optics?" She buzzed past again.

"Did they say where they were going, though?"

"To have sex in the closet? How the hell am I supposed? I'm a bartender, not a babysitter. I've got work to do."

Piper shuddered. "Yeah, thanks for the imagery, Lindsey." The First Aid box was bolted to the wall in the room that they had been sleeping in. She wandered away from the bar, vaguely wondering where her sisters had gone. All she was doing was looking out for her son; she didn't need backup for that, did she?

She sighed. She was a mother doing a motherly job, dammit. Did she need anyone behind her to want to protect her child? She'd seen the pain in Chris's eyes whether Chris knew it or not, and she knew that she had somehow failed badly as a parent in the future. She had been forewarned and would not make the same mistakes again.

She was going to find out what was happening to Chris – even if she didn't think she was going to like it – just to make sure he was okay. He deserved that, someone to be concerned for him for once. She didn't want to be his charge, another person he had to be concerned for. He deserved better than that after a hard future and she was going to do her best to give that to him. Whatever she found in the backroom.

Hidden now by the crowd standing up and singing along to the band and reached out and gripped the door handle, turning it but not opening the door. She paused. The idea of Chris and Ben… doing _that_ was slim, because there was a pregnant girl at Magic School who, if she remembered that explanation correctly had a whole lot of history with her son. She reminded herself that she wanted the story on that.

Piper pushed the door and it opened. At first she thought the room was empty, but then heard a shuffling noise. To help her pinpoint it she closed the door on the rest of the club.

"Chris? Sweetie?" She said, slightly nervous.

"Look out!" She whirled around just as someone jumped at her from behind the door. She shrieked but managed to drop undignified to the floor, using her attacker's momentum against her. Her attacker sailed over her head and into the couch. There was a creaking groan and then a snap and the back fell off.

Piper felt warmth on her exposed collarbone. One of the straps on her top was torn and three jagged nail tracks stood out in blood-red relief on her flesh. Chris struggled forward, tripping over the bonds around his ankles and falling on his side, pulling himself into a sitting position against the wall, his hair hiding part of his face.

"You were supposed to stay quiet!" The attacker shrieked. "You were supposed to let me surprise her! You ruined it! Pagan! Piece of filth! You ruined it!" Piper caught a mass of blonde hair and assumed it was a woman.

There was a loud bang and the smell of a gun discharging and the noise rang through Piper's head. A split second after – although later her brain would not be able to tell – Chris yelled in pain and her face was sprayed with a few drops of warm crimson blood that wasn't her own.

Her immediate reaction was to throw up her hands and Chris did the same, freezing the woman with the gun in place.

_**Learning to Tango**_

Chris grunted in pain. Shit. He'd been shot at. He'd actually been shot. By a real live gun and everything. The moment of surprise quickly faded as pain took over. Fiery pain shot through his shoulder and began radiating throughout his body.

He lowered his hands but it caused more pain and more blood to surge from his shoulder. There was less blood than he had expected, though. Maybe the bullet was pressing on an artery and helping stem the blood flow or something. He'd never been much of a biologist. Stupid Junior Science Class.

"Are you okay, sweetie?" Piper rushed forward, snatching up a cotton pad on her way past the couch. She knelt down, swept her hair behind her ears and pressed the material to her son's shoulder. Her mothering instincts took over as the cotton began soaking up Chris's blood. Her blood. Her own flesh and blood. She wanted to hug him, cradle his head in her arms but she knew that it wouldn't do any good.

And calling Leo to heal him wouldn't be any good either. This woman couldn't know about that. She already knew about magic, apparently, and exposing it anymore would be bad. Piper put her hand to her forehead and closed her eyes, trying to sort out in her mind what to do.

"You know what? I've never been shot at with a bullet before." Chris mused, a look of contemplation on his blood drained face. "Darklighter arrows, sure. Fireballs and energy balls in the hundreds, not to mention all these other random powers. Light darts… Never a bullet…" He tried to shrug, but only winced as his shoulder pulled. "I think those little pieces of metal are due for more credit than I've given them before…"

"But are you okay?" Piper persisted, shifting the cotton pad so a cleaner bit was on the wound. She went to work with the pair of scissors slicing at his bonds.

"Look, I'll live. Try and wake Ben up, will you? I don't know what she did to him."

He put awkward pressure on the pad with his other hand as his mother let go, leaning against the wall. He winced as he gingerly lifted the material to have a look at the wound. It probably looked worse than it was. These things always did. He tried to ignore the tingling in his fingers.

"Ben?" Piper was kneeling over the drugged witch, shaking his shoulders gently. "Ben?" He didn't reply and Piper began shaking him more earnestly. What was wrong with him? She paused. Was she developing mothering instincts towards him as well now? He had the brown hair… And the brown eyes… She took in his face, wondering if the cheekbones could be interpreted as high. Was this another Halliwell come back to save his brother? His cousin?

"Mom? Is he waking up?" Chris knew that it was probably best that Piper got back into her position soon. He wasn't worried about Psycho Lady unfreezing - he'd seen his mother pull off freezes on more people than this for a longer time – but his shoulder hurt and the sooner she got whatever she wanted, the better as far as he was concerned. He was tempted to throw her into a wall.

He thought about it for all of a split second and with a squint of his eyes she was sent catapulting through the air, breaking the freeze. She screamed before hitting the wall with a thud and sliding down, dazed. Piper scurried back into position, needing to keep up appearances. This woman didn't suspect her of anything yet. If anything at all, Chris's attack had done was strengthen Psycho Lady's resolve and tighten her grip on the gun.

"How dare you use your magic on me?! Burning women at the stake when it's men who are the witches! Men, MEN!" She was spitting as she talked and Piper felt the urge to back away from this crazy woman.

"I don't know what you mean," Chris said, with such conviction that Piper was mildly shocked. She wondered where her son had learnt to be such a good liar. She grumbled internally, adding it to the bottom of her ever-lengthening mental list of things to find out about her son.

"Son of Satan!" She used both hands to hold the gun in front of her, took aim and squeezed the trigger again. Piper shrieked and threw up her hands, freezing the scene in place yet again. Chris shuffled right a little out of the path of the bullet and Piper unfroze the room. The hot piece of metal thudded into the wall, blowing plaster dust onto Chris's tongue and drying it out. He spat some out and wiped his tongue on his sleeve.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?!" Piper demanded.

Chris could feel the bass from the music vibrating the wall behind him and his hopes that someone would hear and come to their rescue were diminished. How could anyone hear anything in there? Perhaps the more people there were in the room the more confused this crazy lady would get and the more chance they would have of getting away.

"It's got to be done…"

Chris saw Psycho Lady bear her teeth into a snarl. It was an ugly expression that set her eyes alight with insanity. Chris looked at the gun and tried to work out how many bullets there were in it. Six?

"The world won't miss them…"

"Then why do you want to kill us if the world won't even care?" Chris asked, shifting so he was sitting up straighter against the wall.

"Us?" She echoed, grinning. "Both of you? I was going to get him tested, but now I know…"

"Tested?" Piper prompted timidly. "What for?"

"A triple helix. Witches have three helixes in their DNA. I can run tests at the lab I have…"

Piper's blood ran cold. Every time someone ended up with a sample of their blood they found the triple helix that made them witches. It was how Dr. Williamson had found out about their powers and then cloned them.

The oldest Charmed One sucked a deep breath in through her nose and, making an 'o' shape with her mouth, blew it out through her lips. "Look, sweetie… I don't know who you are but I don't think witches are real…" She was pitching her voice high and talking slowly, hoping to pacify her. The woman turned to her and Piper's eyes were drawn to the void that was the barrel of the gun. She held up her hands in a non-threatening gesture and forced herself to look into the strange, green-yellow eyes. "I know they're on TV all of the time, but-"

"You don't get it! This isn't about that! This is about fraternizing with the Devil! And then they all burned women at the stake, yes they did… And was it the women's faults? No! It was the men doing it and being too cowardly to own up for it! It's their fault! All their fault and now witches must PAY!"

"Times have changed since then. We don't execute people who we think are witches anymore… It's not Salem, sweetie…" Piper made some bold steps forward, hoping the woman wouldn't notice. Maybe she could grab the gun… "And if they _are _witches, which I doubt because witchcraft isn't real, then what's wrong with that?" Piper felt her voice begin to crack in fear. Demons were, on the whole, predictable. She could deal with a demon, no problem. One quick blast or a rhyme or a potion and they were gone out of their lives. It was a whole different story when you had a person like this…

"Everything! They must die for what they do…"

"And what's that?"

"They killed everything I ever loved! And they haunt me! Yes! And they say I've got to kill the witch scum for what they did. Yes! They do!"

"Have you ever thought about… seeing someone?"

"I'M NOT CRAZY!" She shrieked and, the gun forgotten, she charged at Piper, bowling the witch over into the door. Piper's vision exploded into a cloud of stars as the woman grabbed a fistful of her hair. "People care about you, don't they?" The woman whispered, and Piper could see the tears shining in her eyes. She could see the points where each hair grew out of her head. She could see all of the smallest details and the woman put her face still closer until Piper could see nothing but the woman's eyes. "People love you, don't they?"

"Yes."

"I'm sorry…"

"What for?" Piper breathed, the fear now evident in her voice. The woman released her hair.

"For making you the sacrifice that will make the world care."

_**Learning to Tango**_

**Disclaimer: - **I own neither Charmed nor its characters; they all belong to Aaron Spelling and the WB. Last time I checked I was neither of them.

I just want to say that this term has been really long and really hard on my writing. I've had final-type exams for two weeks of it and because it's Winter I've been busy fending off all manner of coughs and colds. I've been incredibly busy as well and most of the time I try not to let schoolwork take priority, which isn't good of me I know, but often when I get home from school I'm too wiped to do any writing. I start college in September 05; I'm hoping things will be different then. I thank you all for your continued patience, because it means a lot to me that you can all wait this long for a chapter and still review.

_Thanks to…_

**Pixie Wildfire: -** Gideon? The villain of the story? :O! Who would have thunk it? Thanks for reviewing.

**Darkness Amber: -** Piper and her credit card. I want a credit card. I can't get one until I'm eighteen. I hate the law. Heh. Don't we all think so? Thanks for your review.

**Christine Marquez: -** Yeah. Poor Nixa. And it's all going to get worse before it gets better anyways.

**Stony Angel: -** Holidays are coming! Heh. Don't mind me, that's the Coca-Cola advert. _Holidays are coming, holidays are coming…_ It's not Christmas time until that's on TV for the first time. Don't mind my insanity. I'm British. I like twisted love. Heh. Thanks, hun. And Even though Bridget and Chris's twisted love scared most people away, it still rocks.

**Princesscatie21: -** Heh, thanks. And thanks again!


	8. Chapter 8

**Important - Please read**

_Whether you noticed it or not I have been on sabbatical since around December the eleventh. There were many reasons behind it, most of which are either too long or personal to go into now, but there was a lot of pressure and something had to give._

_My writing had made a nosedive. It was awful and I hated it and I don't know if anyone realized just how bad it was, but I sure did. I needed to break away from everything, to find the fun in writing again because I write best when I'm having fun and it's not a chore._

_I'm hoping to go back to writing some Season Six-ish that's not got my original characters in and I hope you all look out for that. Season Seven… Well let's just say it's given me no plot bunnies and leave it at that._

_It took me a more than a month, a lot of music and too many unrelated pieces to count to get to the eighth chapter. I don't want things to take this long again, but I might leave longer between updates in the future, I don't know. I kept trashing and scrapping pieces of this and rewriting others to get it the way I want. It's still not perfect, and I have no intention of saying that my sabbatical made me perfect and fixed my writing because in many ways it didn't, but I guess that doesn't matter because here is the chapter done to the best of my ability in the way which I want and in my kind of timeframe. I'm just happy I can write and post again, and I hope to come back refreshed and with new ideas. _

Learning to Tango_ could spin out into something quite long. There will be ups and downs, with the writing quality as well as the characters and plot, but I'm hoping that I will be able to keep it to a level that I feel comfortable posting. I want to take this fic on a ride and see where it will take me, and then write something completely different. If this fic is well-received that maybe I'll write a series of fics on the gangs' backgrounds. It's all up to you. I'm going to leave that in the hands of you and the review button. I like constructive criticism as well as compliments, don't ever forget that when reviewing. I'm a very hard person to offend, trust me._

_I'm going to leave you now to get on with the fic. I have it on excellent authority that there is a chapter somewherebelow this drivel. Go find it and enjoy reading it as much as I have writing it._

_Take care,_

_Twisted Flame. _

* * *

"It's not like Piper to disappear without saying anything…" Phoebe mused, checking a watch with an impossibly tiny face on her wrist. A small frown snaked her eyebrows downwards. "I thought she was going to get drinks or something…" She stood up; the heels on her feet adding nowhere near enough height to allow her to see through the crowd at the bar. And she was not going on tiptoe in _these_ shoes.

"Maybe she's found herself a way to get over Leo," Paige stated, flicking up her eyebrows and frowning when Phoebe turned to look at her. "What? Let her have a little fun once in a while! Just because her marriage is ending doesn't mean she has to become a nun."

"There will be no getting over of Leo until Chris comes along," Phoebe said determinedly, but turning away from Paige, who pulled a face and rolled her eyes. "Oh, this is ridiculous… Where is she?"

It wasn't that the middle sister was particularly worried about Piper's safety. This was a woman who could blow things to pieces. Moreover it wasn't her _job_ to be worried. Piper was the born worrier and now the oldest sister and it would be Piper that paid for it with grey hair and wrinkles. Piper could, most definitely, take care of herself, that went without saying. Phoebe was not going to go into Piper-style neurosis over this, because she knew that it would do her no good. She breathed in through her nose and out through her mouth, with every intention to sit back down and go on with the evening.

But still…

"Paige, do you think you could sense if they were in trouble?" Phoebe asked, turning to her sister. She couldn't fully relax until she knew that Piper was okay. She walked back into the alcove and sat at Paige's side.

"I guess I could give it a whirl…" Paige said with a shrug, closing her eyes and scrunching up her nose, trying to block out the noise and lights of the club. She opened her eyes with a shake of her head. "It's no good, I can't concen-" Paige looked up in surprise, her eyes flicking from side to side and a suspicious pout on her lips. "What's going on?"

The music had cut out. For a few seconds the club was strangely quiet, with only the buzz of chatter to fill the gap that the music had left. Then the crowd on the dance floor started clapping and the sound of a hundred hands clapping in unison filled the air, demanding that the band begin playing again.

"Technical glitch I guess…" Phoebe said with a shrug, jumping involuntarily when a gunshot shattered the clapping. It happened so suddenly, hitting a light and throwing part of the stage go into darkness. The sound of falling glass was lost in the screams and the stampeding of the audience, every man and woman was suddenly for themselves as the crowed unified into one mass. A wave of people surged towards the exits and as they did Phoebe's vision cleared and she saw people disappear under the mass of trampling feet. They didn't come back up.

Another gunshot and she heard Paige give a surprised squeak next to her as another bullet was launched searing from the gun into a man's leg. He yelled and disappeared under the melee and she wasn't sure in the sudden intake of breath was hers or Paige's.

A woman with a crazed mass of blonde hair stepped up onto the stage, the gun held by her side. With her other hand she snatched up one of the cordless microphones from the stage and made herself heard over the speakers.

"Stop running! Stop it!" She screamed, her hair falling in her face. She either didn't notice or didn't care. The last of the band members jumped off of the stage – the first had gone when she started ascending the steps towards them. But slowly as she gained more attention she got down from the stage and walked towards the bar, the crowd hushing and parting around her in fear. Very few other things besides a gun could command and hold that much power over people.

'_Please don't let her see me… Please…' _Lindsey begged silently, crouched behind the bar on the cordless phone, her breath hitching and some of her words indistinguishable from sobs. Her hands were trembling and she could hear the earpiece vibrating against her earring as the 911 operator told her to remain calm. How could she be calm? She shrunk lower into herself as the woman began kicking the bar, as if testing it for some kind of quality. Her mouth was dry and she let out another sob of fear, not daring to talk to the operator. The operator kept telling her to talk but then she would be heard… She began praying to a God she didn't believe in, her eyes screwed tight shut. _'I'm going to die… Please don't let me die… Please, God…'_

The operator suddenly stopped talking and her eyes flew open, just as there was a loud clatter above her. The base belonging to the handset in her clammy grasp had been thrown into the stacks of dirty glasses above her head, sending them down off of the island's counter and onto the floor, shattering around her. She squeaked and dropped the phone, covering her head and face with her arms.

"Stop it! You're helping the witches!" Her voice screamed over P3's speaker system and her eyes were so wild and alight that no one dare meet them. There was spit flying from her lips as she aimed the gun. "They don't deserve to be helped!" The very club seemed to vibrate as her voice rumbled through it, magnified by the mic.

The shot fired into Lindsey's head was magnified too.

It rang out through the club in a horrifying wave of noise as a mist of red spattered against the side of the bar. People screamed and most ducked, lest the shot have been meant for them. Some people were in hysterics, sobbing and crying. A few just stared, numb. Others were clutching the hands of the ones who had fallen into the crush, with only the fragile rising and falling of their chests to betray the fact that they were indeed still alive, despite crushed and shattered bones.

"Witches…" Phoebe whispered in horror from the alcove, her eyes wide and fearful. Her blood ran with ice as the woman set back off towards the stage.

A man not eight feet away was choking and gasping, each breath coming as a burble. Crimson blood was pouring from his nose and welling up against his lips, bubbling as he tried to breathe through it. Phoebe ran to him, jumping a fallen table, her worries about her heels forgotten. She turned him on his side and the blood flowed from his mouth and she felt him take shaky breaths again. He was trembling, she realized. She could feel it through her fingertips. Or was that her? Adrenaline was coursing through her veins, so it could well be…

"Paige! We could really do with getting a hold of that gun!" Phoebe said, twisting her upper body and hinting heavily at the younger sister.

"Right, right…" Paige held out her hand but the woman was out of sight.

The club was packed to well less than half capacity now. The fire exit doors were swinging in the cool and damp night air, almost serenely as the air currents buffeted them any way they chose. The locks had been busted clean off with whatever came to hand. The floor was littered with fallen people, some prone and still, lifeless stares chilling Paige into shudders. Others were coughing or groaning or barely breathing, most had people holding their hands looking lost and desperate. There were a lot of tears. Paige saw one woman's tears sparkle blue and green alternately as her face was blasted with the slow strobe light before it moved on. The band was still there, crouched by the stage. One of them was still clutching his guitar, seemingly in shock.

Paige looked down at her hands, not having any idea what to do. Tears of frustration threatened to overwhelm her but she fought them away, knowing she was stronger than that. If only she could heal… She debated calling for Leo, but she doubted the Elders would let him help in a mortal situation. In the space of a few seconds the club had gone from packed and rocking to still, silent and empty.

It was the silence that bothered Paige most. Never had she heard P3 this quiet. It was eerie. The lights were all still on, flashing and flaring and whirling away, throwing patches into a bombardment of colours before fading and moving on. There was no music to accompany the lights, no talking or noise except for the odd cough or a sob, which would rack the air. Paige could feel the silence pressing on her ears and it wasn't until it was broken by the woman returning that she felt any kind of strange relief.

"There are those among us who think that they can do what they like because they have special powers," the woman spat at last. "But they're not special! They're scum!" The sound became muffled as the woman put the microphone of the bar and leaned on it, reaching over the bar, eventually straightening with a bottle of Jack Daniels in her hand. She twisted the cap off as if it had personally offended her and, holding it by the neck, took two deep swigs from the bottle, oblivious to the burning in her throat. When she spoke again her words were slightly slurred. "And all they ever do," she began, without the microphone. She picked it up before continuing, "is TAKE! They live among us and they're bad, bad people… They'll kill you, oh yes they will. And you're children! They'll kill you all…" And, clutching the bottle by the neck still she staggered off back towards the stage.

_**Learning to Tango**_

A soft moan escaped Ben's lips and his eyelids fluttered. His head throbbed dully and powerfully and he reached up to rub his eyes. His mouth had a bitter taste in it and when he opened his eyes the world was unfocused and moving his head made him want to throw up.

"Ben?" There was a voice above him calling his name. It hurt to listen, though. He wanted to go back to sleep… His mouth tasted funny, bitter somehow, and his memories seemed to be fragmented, distorted like a watercolour left out in the rain. He vaguely remembered needing to do something with Chris, but he didn't remember what it was. "Ben!" The voice was sharper this time and he groaned again. That didn't sound like Chris… That sounded more like Piper…

He forced his eyes open and all he could see were shapes above him, heaving like a ship on the sea and he blinked slow and hard, trying to adjust, willing himself not to be sick. Once he was sure he wasn't going to throw up he scrambled to sit up, and what he assumed was Piper's face withdrew suddenly out of his path.

"Well it's about time," Chris observed sarcastically from a little way away. Ben noticed that his friend was holding a reddening cotton pad to his shoulder and frowned. "I got shot," Chris explained with a humourless laugh, seeing Ben looking.

"Oh…" Ben blinked, looking past Chris. The room they were in was not every wide but it was long. He could not see the end of it, and dark, fuzzy shapes loomed out of the darkness at points along the walls. The concrete floor underneath him was cold enough to be felt through the black dress pants that came with the bartending job that he was wearing. "Where are we?"

"Behind the stage," Piper said, leaning against the wall. She sounded nervous but then said, "Oh, I am going to kill that woman…" Her eyes kept flicking towards the door as if she expected someone to burst through any minute.

"Okay… I guess I missed a lot here. What happened?"

"Well what's the last thing you remember?"

"Uh…" Ben paused, frowning. The last thing he remembered with any clarity was the broken lava lamp. There were other images but they were fragmented and he couldn't trust them enough to be sure. "A broken lava lamp…" He shook his head. The harder her tried to remember the more slipped through his grasp.

"That's it?" Chris asked. "Nothing else?" His friend only shrugged. "Okay, Cliff Notes version?" He shifted the cotton pad so he could look at the wound on his shoulder before talking again. "There's a woman with a gun that wants you and me dead because we're witches. She's willing to make a public spectacle of what is, by the looks of it, going to be our very messy deaths."

"Oh… Well now my life is complete," Ben rolled his eyes. "So-"

"Don't move!" Ben looked towards the door and saw a woman with dyed blonde hair. The speakers began to shriek with interference from the cordless mic and everyone except the woman threw their hands over the ears.

Suddenly images of this woman's eyes flashed across Ben's mind and he realized that they had been one of the fragments. She grabbed a handful of Piper's hair and Chris threw out his hands.

"No!"

Nothing happened. Chris threw his hands forward again but nothing happen and he felt the first tingling of fear creep into him. What was wrong with his powers? With his throat dry he tried again, but the woman reached into her mint green blouse and pulled out a hefty chunk of something that glinted in the dim light. In the middle of it something winked the same colour as her eyes. She began to laugh as it twisted on its chain.

"This is something my Daddy gave to me before he was killed. It absorbs a power used on me so you can't use it again. Don't think I don't know, because I do. I know all about you and your powers…"

Chris swallowed hard. He couldn't protect his mother, and his mother couldn't protect herself. He looked down at his hands uselessly and then threw out his arm, but it had no effect on the woman. Then he remembered that he had tried that earlier. What else could he do? Levitate her to death?

The screeching of the speakers halted as the woman yanked out a length of cord from a socket and tore it from the wall at the other end and began tying Piper's wrists together with it. With each know Piper flinched as the electrical cord cut deeper into her flesh but she kept her brown eyes fixed on the woman's green ones, filled with hatred.

Ben shifted so that when he used his power he wouldn't hit Piper and had raised his hands when the gun went off. He dimly heard Piper cry out and knock the gun before pain shot throw his lower left arm as blood began running across the surface of the skin. He snatched his arm back to his chest in a gut reaction, staring numbly at it even as pain ran through him.

Chris got up, the pad sliding to the floor with the sudden surge of movement. If his powers couldn't help her, then he would have to save his mother physically the mortal way.

"What's the matter," Psycho Lady asked, her eyes glinting with triumph, "afraid she might get hurt? Aw, poor baby…" She mocked and Chris's anger grew.

Chris started forward as Psycho Lady took a drink from her bottle, bubbles burbling through the amber liquid. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, made awkward by the gun, and the tilting of the bottle sloshed some onto Piper's shirt.

"She's… She's not a witch. Just let her go…" The way the woman was staring at him was unnerving. She silently watched as Chris worked out what his next move would be. On the floor Ben hissed in pain as he probed his wound. "She hasn't done anything to you…"

"I DON'T CARE!" The woman threw the bottle in her hand and by sheer dumb luck it hit Chris above the eye. He only stumbled backwards about three paces but he tripped over Ben's legs and fell as blood began to dribble into his eye. He swiped it away and sat up quickly, but when he looked up again, Piper and the woman were gone.

"Are you okay?" Ben asked. He looked a little pale and clammy as he handed Chris the now-dirtied cotton pad that had fallen to the dusty floor.

"I've fucked everything up…" Chris muttered, suddenly twisting his upper body and punching the wall. He barely felt the pain as blood began to crawl sluggishly from his knuckles but it was welcome to him.

"Oh, come on, Chris. This isn't your fault. It's not like you knew this was going to happen, right?" He paused. "You're not getting premonitions, are you?"

A ghost of a smile flitted across Chris's face before it faded. "I could have done something, though…" Chris shook his head, trying to find the right words. "There's always something you can do…" What sort of son was he? He couldn't even manage to help his own mother… He couldn't do a thing… Bitterness began settling on him in a weight. He was tempted to orb to his mother, but he knew that doing so could get her shot. She didn't deserve to suffer because of him. And there were a lot of things that could get her shot right now, but behaving for this bitch wasn't one of them. He decided to stay put. He put his head in his hands and inadvertently jabbed a fingernail into the new cut on his forehead. Swearing he withdrew his hands.

"One of these days you're going to have to stop blaming yourself. Not everything is your fault. You are a good person. There's not always something you can do to stop it. You can't save every innocent, you can't kill every demon. And you definitely can't stop some woman like that without any foreknowledge. But it's the way the world is. And it sucks. I'm not going to say anything else. It really sucks." He broke off and shrugged. "Look, the only way you could deal with Wyatt was by coming back twenty years. Without telling me, by the way. Thanks for that. But the only way you could save Wyatt was by starting from scratch. There was nothing you could do short of throwing yourself two decades backward in time."

"There's always something," Chris protested stubbornly. "There's always something you can do…" Chris refused to see that they were stuck, at least for now. "Think!"

"Okay, well… When she comes in I'll throw an ice ball at her and you…" he looked around for inspiration. His eyes landed on a bright red fire extinguisher gleaming in the gloom. "You-"

"What will he do? Huh? What will he do to me? You're going to come with me. SCUM!" She punctuated the last word by hitting Ben across the face with the gun. His head snapped to one side and she grabbed a handful of his shirt. Ben, too stunned to move for a while, felt the material rip under her tugging, exposing his collarbone and some of his shoulder. "Be nice and I won't hurt the woman. The other one. Yes. Poor, poor lady… It's a shame that you killed her…"

Something about this woman screamed insanity. It was all Ben could think of as he scrambled to get up and obey her. He couldn't even tell who she was talking to half of the time.

Chris was quickly on his feet as well. Anything to appease this woman and perhaps stop her killing Piper was worth it right now. He just had to try and talk to her… Do something to make it so they could have more time… He frowned slightly, trying to work out how many bullets this woman had left in her gun.

_**Learning to Tango**_

_**Learning to Tango**_

More people had fled the club now, and Paige could hear sirens and the screech of brakes in the parking lot outside. The fire exit doors were still swinging in the breeze and through the open exits red and blue lights were spilling in, the flashing enough to give Paige a headache. There was noise out there, radios and the sound of engines running. She could hear doors and trunks being slammed and then a car pulled right up in the view of the door. A cop quickly got out, crouching behind his cruiser's door.

As soon as the woman with the gun had disappeared the band had left too. It was just the mass of injured people and the ones staying with them, as well as the people who were too hysterical, brave or stupid to move. Paige noted a couple of them that were all three. Some were in shock, pale as ghosts. Others were under the illusion that they could actually do something. Maybe they were drunk.

The lights still glared down from the ceiling, the strobe light sending a slow pulse throughout the club. Paige squinted as it was blasted into her eyes for a few seconds, and reached over the bar to the switches on the other sid.

A leg and a pool of blood was all that could be seen from this side of the reservation and Paige, her stomach churning, flipped on the overhead strip lights. They flickered on, throwing the place into bright white relief and by the improved light she could make out the rest of the switches and turned the other lights off.

As the coloured strobes and stage lights faded and were replaced with the brightness of the overhead bulbs Paige looked around and saw that the club was a mess. Overturned tables littered the floor and shattered glass and spilled liquids crunched and sloshed under the witch-whitelighter's shoes. The box of straws had been knocked from the bar, its contents strewn all over the floor and squashed flat. Swizzle sticks also lay broken on the floor, kicked to form a trail towards one of the fire exits by many terrified feet.

People's injuries were now better visible and, therefore, more horrible. Paige wasn't sure how many people were even alive anymore. Some you could see were breathing, others… Paige didn't know and couldn't tell. Phoebe and herself had been lucky – not only were they slightly screened by the curtained VIP alcove but they had had the sense not to join the crush trying to pour out of the club. Looking at the wounded lying on the floor Paige realized that it was the fact that they had been faced with so much danger in their lives that they hadn't been among the trampled.

But the police were here… Piper was sitting on the bar, looking murderous. Paige could see the cord binding her sister's wrists.

"I swear, if she hurts them…" Piper said, trailing off, unable to find something bad enough. Paige had seen Piper angry and it really wouldn't be pretty. A man came up to the bar and took a stack of napkins from it and knelt down beside one of the fallen, pressing the padding to their bleeding wounds.

"It'll be okay, Piper. The cops are here… And besides aren't they a little old to be this worried over? Soon you'll be packing them lunches…" Paige said, rolling her eyes.

"That woman has a gun, Paige. And it's very real and very dangerous. If she hurts either of them anymore she is going to be one big pile of dust, and I don't care about the consequences!"

She gestured wildly with her bound hands and Paige waited for something to blow up and when nothing did she continued. "Come on, Piper. Chris can freeze time. Like she'd be able to get near them if he didn't want her to. Besides, shouldn't you be more worried about yourself?" Paige gestured to her sister's predicament.

"That's just the thing. Freezing time doesn't work on her anymore." She saw Paige about to ask a question. "Long story, don't ask."

There were several loud thumps and a string of curse words as Ben tumbled down the steps up to the stage. Chris descended more carefully, off balance with his hands tied behind his back. Ben got up awkwardly and Piper realized that his hands, too, were bound behind his back. This was going to take a lot to fix the speakers after tonight… To top it all off the woman had decided to wreck her club's sound system as well.

"You're scum! You're all scum! Demonic scum! Now get up!"

Ben noticed that very few people were watching as he walked towards Piper, but then his vision exploded into stars as the gun hit the back of his head. He lurched forward and managed to catch himself awkwardly in a kneeling position next to the bar. He heard and felt rather that saw Chris fall next to him but Chris didn't catch himself in time and fell to the floor.

Ben felt his heart beating in his mouth as she readied the gun for a shot. He began twisting his hands, willing them free. Piper slid off of the bar but Psycho Lady elbowed her in the face and she went down, hitting her head on the bar. She landed on the floor out cold.

"This is for all of you out there who think Satan is your friend!"

Chris felt himself being dragged up by his shirt and he began tried turning to duck and face her, but he couldn't. She's tied to many knots on his wrists… He couldn't even use any of his powers against her…

Chris hadn't seen Phoebe, who was behind the bar creeping forward so when she vaulted over the bar and used the momentum to kick Psycho Lady in the face it surprised him. His captor landed on her back, the gun skittering away across the dance floor and coming to rest half-concealed behind a fallen table.

"You don't know what you've done! I've got to kill them!" She got up and lunged halfway across the floor for the gun. Phoebe tried to stop her but tripped over the skirt she was wearing against the San Francisco fog outside and fell.

"Note to self: Don't go fighting in a skirt and heels," Phoebe muttered as the Psycho Lady picked up her gun again just as Phoebe was getting up. She aimed her gun at Phoebe but the man that had been shot in the leg groaned, rolled over and used the last of his strength to grab her ankle, yanking it backwards. She kicked him off but he surged forward again, sinking his teeth into her calf.

She howled in pain and staggered forward, hitting the fallen man in the nose with the heel of her sneaker and with a nasty crack he let go. When she turned back to Phoebe the witch had taken her opportunity to get out of the line of fire and start trying to untie Piper.

"None of you move!" Chris's breath hitched as he felt the cold of the gun against his temple and he squeezed his eyes closed, about to summon his orbing power, when a single gunshot rang throughout the club.

_**Learning to Tango**_

"WHY THE HELL DIDN'T YOU IDIOTS KNOCK HER ASS OUT?!" Bridget yelled. She was on her feet but, being quite a bit shorter than both Ben and Chris, they didn't find the height intimidating. Even though they were sitting down the extra inches that standing brought over them weren't all that scary. What they did find intimidating was the way her eyes were blazing and the way her voice had risen to a shriek.

Ben winced and stared down into his lap, picking his fingernails with the thumbnail on the same hand and hoping to be able to ride out the storm of Bridget's temper this time. The white of the bandage on his arm peeked out of the long-sleeved top he was wearing and sighed, moving to pull a thread from it. It wasn't that he wasn't used to Bridget being mad at him, quite the opposite, it's just that Bridget was scary by herself, without being fuelled by hormones and today… Well heads were definitely going to roll.

"I mean _how_ long have you been fighting demons? And some bitch with a poor dye job nearly kills you? With a _gun_ no less?!" She began pacing in front of them, gesticulating wildly in her anger. "I mean, are you _trying_ to send me into premature labour here? Because you're doing a great job so far! Another stunt like this and I might just drop this thing right out on the floor!"

Ben winced again, although this time it was at the imagery. They were not pretty pictures, not at all… He moved to picking the nails on his other hand, hoping that if he kept his head down Bridget might just rant herself out without him having to listen to much of it.

"And you!" Bridget shrieked, pointing a ringed finger at him. Uh-oh. Busted. He looked up gingerly, preparing himself for the fusillade that was about to come his way.

"Yes?" He asked, although it wasn't as if she needed much prompting.

"You don't take drinks from strangers! You know that! I mean, has everything _completely_ slipped your mind? What if that was a potion in there and not some weird drug? I mean, jeez, how dumb can you get?!" She paused and Ben almost sagged in relief. However a tiny corner of his brain was telling him that it wasn't over yet and he had thought right. Bridget had only paused for breath. "You can create magnetic fields. And what is a gun made of?"

She seemed to want an answer, and sheer duh smacked into Ben like a train. "Metal?" He tried, knowing that it was the right answer.

"Oh, well done. And what does a magnetic field attract? Metal! Plus the fact you could have iced that bitch's ass, cremated her or astralled for help! Did you not _think_? I mean, where was your brain? Did you leave it at home?" She seemed completely exasperated with what she saw as utter stupidity.

She turned to Chris and Ben could tell that she was done with him for a while and he sunk back into the chair in relief. He nearly let out an audible sigh but thought against it at the last second, knowing it would only provoke Bridget and internalized his reaction.

"Look, Bridget…" Chris began, his hands raised palms towards her, attempting to pacify her. Perhaps if he could placate her, distract her for long enough she would let the whole thing blow over. "Nothing happened. The cops shot her as she was about to shoot me."

That was true. Sheridan had smirked herself stupid as she took statements from the both of them. As if the whole thing was their fault. She had even ended the interview by telling them not to forget that they were on bail. Thank God the doctors had told her to get out after a while, because Chris could have strangled her.

Chris's arm was in a sling until the wound healed and he found in awkward and cumbersome. But he was not surprised that Leo hadn't answered his calls last night. He was surprised, however, that the Elder hasn't answered the call of the sisters, especially Piper. Maybe he was just somewhere where he couldn't be reached. He had thought he had been getting on relatively well with his father, considering, but he guessed he had thought wrong. He didn't even know why he'd thought that in the first place. Leo was always going to be Leo in any time.

"Don't try it!" Bridget snapped and Chris felt silent, lowering his hands. He really needed some new tricks… He was all too aware of the many pairs of teenage eyes watching him getting chewed out by the very pregnant Bridget and the many teenage mouths smirking at it. He fought away an embarrassed flush that was creeping up his neck, rubbing it absently with his hand and clearing his throat.

"It's not our fault…"

"Oh, no of course not. You put yourselves in a stupid situation! I mean, do you WANT this baby to grow up fatherless?!" On the word 'want' Bridget's voice rose even higher in pitch to a level that Chris hadn't thought possible. He realized that he may never live down the students' snickering in the background. Bridget seemed oblivious because he knew that if she heard them they would probably be dead by now. He almost expected to see sparks flying from her angry eyes, or perhaps her fingertips. He probably would be if they weren't within the sanctuary and demonic-power-free zone of Magic School. He silently thanked Fortune.

He wanted to orb out but he knew Ben would kill him for leaving him to deal with Bridget and then even if he took Ben Bridget would find a way to bring him back so she could kill him over again for leaving her mid-rant so he sat their and let his mind wander.

God, when she was mad her face took on a new shade and her eyes gleamed… He gave himself a mental shake. No. When she was mad she was pissed. Very, very dangerous and pissed. He forced himself to focus on something else and it wasn't until he looked closely that he saw that behind Bridget's façade of anger there was fear. He could see it in her eyes, worming its way through her even as she tried to hide it. She was scared that she would be left alone, that she would end up the last one of them alive in this timeline and she would have to have the baby on her own… Chris's heart went out to her and he tried to apologize with his eyes but he knew that Bridget wasn't particularly perceptive to things like that and it would take a lot more to make it up to her than just a simple look.

Bridget flicked hair out of her face and swept it angrily behind her ears, but the moment she leant forward to yell again it fell back down and tickled her cheek. Not the image she wanted, particularly. She was going for severe. Her hand flashed out and looped the offending hair fiercely behind her ears in a blur of movement and got ready for another barrage.

How could they have been so stupid? They could have died… And then there would be no father for the baby and… And the past had already claimed Nixa. How many more of them did it need to take – or try to take – before it was satisfied? She balled her fists but her anger faded. She was not angry with the two guys sitting in front of her. Anything but. She was just angry with the whole set up they had going here, angry at the world as well.

And she didn't want to lose anymore friends. Not that she'd ever tell them that. It was better that they think she was pissed rather than have them think that hormones or something were turning her into a soft mother-type. That would definitely freak them out even more than the yelling and _someone_ had to be the sensible person here because otherwise who would? So no words came when she tried to rant again. Her mouth opened and closed uselessly a couple of times before she flung herself backwards into the armchair behind her and covered her face with her hands.

"I just don't know what to say," she mumbled from behind her palms, stretching and massaging her closed eyes with her fingertips. "I don't have a right to yell, do I? It's just…" she remembered that they would freak if they saw the emotional side of her and continued with, "…just that you two were so _dumb_ and it was only luck that saved you."

"Well we're sorry."

Chris's voice made her jump and she withdrew her hands from her face and saw him sitting on the arm of the chair stroking her hair. He looked so sincere, so serious and she immediately believed him. A lot had changed in Chris since Wyatt had turned. A lot. She inclined her head so it was leaning on his upper arm until her moved it, snaking it around her back. Great. She'd probably looked like a vulnerable, weak girly girl. She fought the urge to pout.

"Well… Don't do it again, you got that?" She finally said, hating herself for sounding so much like a child.

"Well you know us. We'll do our best."

"I knew you'd have to have the last word," Bridget said, narrowing her eyes playfully at Ben as he sat on the free arm of the chair and put his arm around her shoulders.

Now all they needed was Nixa and they'd be perfect.

The three friends sat there for a while, their smiles fading as the seconds ticked past as realization hit them and pain showed in their eyes. This was how it was meant to be – nearly – friends forever no matter what. Families may be hard to come by in the future but with a friendship like theirs they were sure it could stand anything and still be all the family they could ever need.

"While she's all docile are you going to tell her?" Ben asked, the first to break the trance. He sat up straighter on the arm of the chair and looked at Chris he was looking down worriedly at Bridget.

"Uh… Why me?"

"Because when she explodes you can freeze her as we run for it?" Ben suggested unhelpfully and Bridget smacked him in the stomach. He winced and she smirked.

"What?" The Hunter asked suspiciously, looking from one to the other. "Am I going to have to get mad again? Because if so I'm going to need help getting up…"

"You're not gonna be mad…" Chris said, rolling his eyes and getting up off of the chair. "We just think we've got a lead on who turns Wyatt and we're going to follow it up…" he paused, hoping she wouldn't blow up and give them another lecture.

"Well… That's… good, right?"

Ben got up as well and walked over to Chris, inspecting her suspiciously. "What, that's it? No, 'Take a sweater,' or 'Be back by curfew,' or 'Bring me back a piece,'?" Is the real Bridget even in there?"

Bridget narrowed her eyes and gave a short, false, dangerous laugh. "I'm not either of your mothers. Which is good, because I've had enough of pitying myself for a while. Now I suggest you orb before I find the energy to get up." As if the emphasize her point she braced herself against the arms of the chair.

"We're gone." And then they were, in a swirl of bright blue lights that faded into nothing.

Bridget slumped back into her chair and sighed, staring at the spot where her friends had been not so long before. "Just be careful, okay?" She murmured softly before turning herself to planning how she was going to occupy herself for the day. There had to be some pimply pubescent teenaged boy that she hadn't threatened with nose-breaking should he look at her ass as she walked past again. It was just a matter of finding him.

She was just about to finish heaving herself out of the chair when she heard heels approaching her. Seeing as none of the female teachers here wore heels because they were impractical for being on their feet all day and none of the students did because – although they were far too young to have a sensible fear of blisters – they didn't want to break a heel in something like levitation class, she looked around interested. Perhaps the threatening part of her day wouldn't be the highlight after all…

She mentally paused. Ben was right. Was she even herself today?

"Did I just see the boys orb off?" The voice asked as the heels clack-clacked nearer.

Bridget turned her body to peer around the side of the chair and discovered Piper coming towards her. As if she hadn't recognized the voice. She rolled her eyes at herself, straightened her top and smiled. "Hey, Piper," she greeted, getting out of the chair. "Yeah, they said they had a lead on the Wyatt situation," she paused, "how did you get here anyway?"

"I had Paige orb me," the witch replied, gesturing vaguely over her shoulder. Paige had got distracted by something in the corridor and had said to Piper that she would catch her up.

"So is this a social call?" Bridget asked, clearing her throat. She didn't know why she felt so awkward. It was suddenly as if Piper had become a complete stranger to her.

But then this Piper was a complete stranger to her. This Piper didn't know her or her ways at all. Which meant that this Piper thought of her as a whore for sleeping with her son? Probably. Oh joy…

Piper took a deep nervous breath, smiling a little too widely. "Well I gave Wyatt to Leo for the day and Phoebe finished her column on time for what has to be like the first time ever and Paige isn't actually doing anything except fuming because the kindergarten she was doing her temp job at as a nursery assistant found someone permanent before her magical cosmic reason for being there showed up so..." she trailed off to breathe. She seemed to be getting to the real point. "So we were going shopping and seeing as how you only have the one set of clothes and the stuff you've borrowed from Phoebe won't give if you can a pound let alone a baby, I was wondering if you would like to come?"

There, that hadn't been so hard, had it? This was obviously the woman her son loved and if she was going to be a mother and be part of Chris's life then she should start by accepting Bridget. There was a pause, and Piper's nerves interpreted it as a rejection. A tiny hope flared and she realized that she might have spoken a little fast for Bridget to grasp what she'd been saying. Please say she wants to come…

Bridget blinked at the sudden onslaught of information as he brain cleared a backlog of words. "Uh… Sure…" She gave a small laugh and smiled.

"Hey!" Paige orbed in in front of them, smiling.

"What's wrong with walking?" Piper asked, jumping.

"Why walk when you can orb?" Paige asked, waggling her eyebrows. "Besides, I was late enough because I had to yell at some kids for snickering at Bridget here."

"Still? Even after I threatened to bitch slap them into the real world where the stupid magic won't protect them?" Bridget started to rise but Paige shook her head.

"No, no, no. Don't worry. They may be laughing now but they won't be when a demon throws a fireball at them. So, are we shopping or not?"

Bridget got out of her chair then and as the orbs began covering her body she said, "You know it's a shame the guys aren't here. They make excellent pack mules."


	9. Chapter 9

The air tingled with the silence.

It was a silence as unnatural and oppressing as the gloom of the Underworld around them. Their ears were the only particularly useful sense and they were straining, trying to catch the faintest sound of an approaching enemy. Ben's sneakers slipped on some loose scree left on the narrow path. Barely three foot-widths across the path dropped into a sharp incline, a slope covered with small stones, rocks and bleached white objects that Ben really hoped were rocks, but somehow doubted that they were.

The debris skittered down the small incline making a noise that was deafening to their ears which were compensating for the nearly non-existent sense of sight. Chris whipped around, ready to fight. He missed his friend's sheepish expression in the dark but caught the shrug of Ben's shoulders and his heart rate resumed its normal thumping. Even that was annoyingly obstreperous in the blanket of silence.

Chris rolled his eyes and turned back the way he came, using one hand on the damp and, in some places, slimy, wall to guide him along. He didn't think the fall down the incline would kill him, however steep it was, but it might hurt him a lot, and then alert demons to their presence. Also he couldn't see what was at the bottom. There could be some kind of pit or abyss. You never knew with the Underworld. It was best to keep a low profile until they got their man. Demon. Whatever.

Apparently there was a demon disgruntled enough by some upper level ones that would enjoy spiking its old masters' guns. He was, however, very difficult to find because the masters knew that he wanted to betray them. Chris couldn't even be sure if the demon was in the Underworld any longer, let alone in the direction they were travelling. Being down here really screwed up his whitelighter senses as well. Not only could he not hear anything from the world above, down here everything seemed muffled and distorted. He couldn't tell if a demon was around the corner or half a mile away. He really didn't like being down here much.

He kept reminding himself that it was for the future, for Wyatt, but he still didn't like creeping about in the half-light looking for a demon that he wasn't even sure existed. Suddenly, with a loud clatter, Chris tripped over something on the floor. He fell hard, throwing his hands out to protect himself, but because the path was so narrow his right hand plunged into nothingness and grazed across sharp stones and gravel, while the left one took all of the impact on the wrist. Swearing at the pain he tried to get up, but the bank of small debris that he was pushing on to rise gave way abruptly, sending his right side off of balance and starting him rolling sideways down the slope.

"Oh, brilliant. Fantastic, just great," he muttered darkly, before his mouth filled with dirt and his sliding quickened in pace. He reached out to grab the ledge that he had been walking on not moments before and he swung so he was lying on his stomach. He couldn't get any type of grip on the loose surface, and his feet dug in only to scatter more rocks.

"You would be so dead without me," Ben said, rolling his eyes and grabbing his friend's wrist, pulling him halfway to safety. As Chris's waist and hips reached the ledge Ben suddenly felt the back of his neck tingle and he half turned around to see the air alight with flames. On his knees already, it was a short drop to the floor. The fireball whizzed over his head and shattered on a stalactite hanging from the roof above the slope.

As Ben scrambled to get up he fired a ball of ice behind him. It shattered on the wall in a blaze of frigid shards and he knew he had missed but with the top half of his body hanging over the edge of the precipice he could not twist his neck enough to see what he was aiming at. Chris threw out one of the arms scrabbling for possession and the thud of the demon hitting the wall shook up his body and sent stones skittering down the slope.

With a sudden surge and a scattering of small rubble Chris was on the path just as the demon started to recover as well. The witch-whitelighter deflected another fireball, briefly brightening the slope with a flare-like burst as it died on the roof.

With a complicated manoeuvre Ben swung himself back up onto the ledge, wrenching muscles in both his elbow and abdomen. He looked up and found himself looking at the demon. It was tall, with bright, poisonous green flesh and electric blue marking that actually appeared to be glowing. However, he was now in Chris's line of fire, turning the responsibility of fighting the demon over to him.

Forming another ice ball in his upturned palm he threw it at the demon, knocking it backwards and spreading ice across its torso. It gave a guttural roar and got back up, shattering its glacial confines with a flex of its powerful muscles.

Mentally muttering, 'uh oh', Ben formed a fireball this time and threw the weapon, but it exploded on impact with one of the demon's, a ring of fiery energy bursting forward and throwing Ben and the demon off of their feet. Chris dropped to one knee and closed his eyes, and the fire that followed the energy burst swept over them in an angry orange wave, crackling as it rushed over the TK shield.

The half roll that Ben had done after getting hit by the energy would have tripped Chris up had it not been for the fact that he was crouching. Chris got up, stepping over his friend to take his turn at fighting the demon, but realized that it was sliding down the incline and with a flick of his wrist sent a powerful, concussive telekinetic blast in the shape on an invisible ball at the demon, which was knocked off of its feet and did a clumsy, forced somersault down into the uncertain darkness.

Sincerely hoping that there was some kind of bottomless abyss down there Chris let go of his adrenaline and blew a deep breath out.

"I really hope that that wasn't the demon we were meant to be questioning," Ben said from the floor, poking at the hole in the knee of yet another pair of ruined jeans.

"That was to high a level to be our demon," Chris said, extending a hand to help Ben up off of the floor, but ending up down there with him as he realized that the hand he had offered was the left one - the one he had fallen hard on. He had snatched it back and they had both fallen over.

"Can we _please_ get off of this tiny path now? There's barely enough room to breathe without falling off of it…"

Chris rolled his eyes and reached out into the dark with his whitelighter powers. They were down there trying to find a demon and dammit, they were going to do it. He wanted to be able to take Bridget and the baby back to a better future, and that was what he was going to give them. With a sense of grim determination he even closed his eyes to the surroundings, trying to find the damn demon so they could pull information for it and be back up top in time for lunch.

"Demon…" he said softly, opening his eyes, his radar finally alerting him.

"What?" Ben asked, getting up and looking around. He conjured a handful of flames and held the flickering light aloft. "Where?"

The flames caressed the features of the being standing in the thick shadow cover of the corner of the path. As they travelled over its face Ben recognized the electric blue marking and was about to throw the handful of flames when the demon crossed the space between them in a stride and backhanded him across the face, throwing him backwards where he seemed to hover slightly as if he were in a cartoon before plummeting to the loose surface and rolling to the bottom out of sight.

"Here!" He called out triumphantly as Chris froze it, before balancing himself sideways and skidding down the slope after Ben.

"Ben?" He yelled. All he could hear was his own breathing and the noise of stones rushing over one another. "Are you down there?"

Above on the ledge, the demon fought the freezing spell put on him, his limbs moving as though through molasses but he was moving nonetheless. Slowly, a fireball appeared in his hand and as if the use of his power brought life to him he became fully animated, throwing it at Chris's back.

Just as the fireball was about to hit him the gravel underneath his shoes slipped and he dropped considerably and the fireball whizzed harmlessly over his head. It did, however, hit the stones, melting some of them and throwing white-hot shrapnel at Chris, who fell backwards and took a blow to the temple as he tumbled and slid down the embankment on his butt and back, disappearing into the darkness.

"You're going to die, witches…" he said in a singsong voice, shimmering out.

He appeared at the bottom, where the two witches lay still, their faces cut and scratched, bleeding in many places from various wounds on their arms, faces and necks. Oh, this was too easy. Too anticlimactic. He paused for all of around three seconds before conjuring a fireball and, grinning widely, let it revolve in his hand. The ball turned slower and slower as he thought and he eventually put it out in a puff of smoke.

He could do with a couple of witch toys. His last one had died. Apparently separating a human from its head was fatal, which was a completely ridiculous anatomy flaw in his opinion. Just as it was about to haul them up a voice called out through the darkness.

He turned, sniffing the air, narrowing its eyes and growling. "Who's there?"

Out of the gummous shadows a demon stepped. It was much shorter than the green and blue one and much less muscular looking. It was a deep shade of orange all over.

"Bard!" The larger demon's guffaws echoed around the cavern. "You hope to challenge me for these witches!" He broke off laughing again, great peals rolling around the rocky cavern.

"Yes, Torc. I do."

Torc grinned in amusement before conjuring a fireball in his hand and readying it to throw. "You're so pathetic I almost feel guilty. Almost." Before he could throw his weapon Bard formed a light dart and sent it hurtling into Torc's shoulder, the surprise extinguished the fireball.

"Who'd you steal that power off? What are you, a warlock now?" Torc sneered, spitting on the ground in his contempt for warlocks, but less full of himself now he was bleeding.

"It doesn't matter. But these witches are _mine!"_

Torc threw another fireball at him and the lesser demon was forced to dive out of the way. From his position on the ground Bard threw another light dart, this one hitting Torc in the stomach. The green demon howled in pain as more blood flowed, forming a fireball again but missing in his rage. This lesser demon was_ winning…_

"Last time, you snivelling piece of scum," Torc said, breathing hard. "Where'd you steal that power from?"

"Never. You. Mind." Bard growled, tossing a larger dart right into Torc's chest, vanquishing him.

As soon as the pillar of flames from Torc's death had faded Bard looked down at his prize. They'd practically fallen right into his lap as he hid out down here, practicing his power over and over in the hope of beating some upper level demons. And now he even had not just one witch but two to give to his masters as thanks.

He crouched low over Chris's body, taking a handful of the witch-whitelighter's shirt and stretching to reach Ben, but his fingertips scrabbled on nothing but rock and stones. He stretched himself as far as he could, but couldn't hold both of them and shimmer. Cursing he got up and began dragging Ben.

"This wasn't part of the game…" he muttered, before finally getting them close enough to shimmer them to his masters.

_**Learning to Tango**_

Phoebe jutted out her hip and pouted dramatically, bringing up her hand to rest it on the jutted hip before blowing a kiss, turning on one heel and strutting away. She was met with wild applause from her sisters and Bridget, who were sitting on the chairs set out in the changing area of the store, and she dropped her act and smiled her baby-Phoebe grin.

"Do you like it?" She did another little twirl, the dark silk _swooshing _around her legs. She looked at herself in the mirror again, desire tugging at her. It was a deep crimson, a luxurious colour that she just _adored…_

"What does the price tag say on that thing, Phoebe?" Piper asked as her sister admired the dress from a different angle in the mirror.

"Who cares, Piper?" Paige said. "Phoebe can't _not_ have that dress. I mean, look at it! It's to die for…"

"Today, I am going to throw my credit rating out of the window," Phoebe agreed absently, arching her back in another pose. "Is it legal to marry a dress?"

Bridget snorted as a guy across the store missed his mouth with his coffee as he stared, dribbling the scalding liquid down his shirt. He immediately jerked back from his girlfriend's hand as it burnt the skin, pulling out a tissue and dabbing at the stain.

"It'll all end in tears when the bill comes through," Piper warned, but making no move to stop Phoebe reaching for her credit card. Secretly, she thought that that dress was to die for on Phoebe as well. Her sister was just right for it, from her skin and eye colour to the way she carried herself. But being the oldest sister involved being a bit of a nag sometimes, and so she was just doing her job. And she was a tad jealous that she would never be able to make something like that work, especially with the baby she had a heads up on.

"Oh, come on, Piper," Paige said, moving to a nearby sale rack and snatching off a jacket and a dress that she thought were Piper's style. "Buy something you'll regret tomorrow, go on."

"Well…" Piper said, drawing out the word and she fingered the fabric of the black dress. She jumped up, snapping her fingers and pointing at Phoebe. "Phoebe!"

Phoebe cringed, waiting for another lecture about money. She didn't care, she had to have this dress; it might as well have been made for her. Her fingers scrambled to tuck the price tag out of view as Piper spoke again.

"Phoebe! _That… _that is going to need a new pair of shoes."

"Yay!" Phoebe gave a little round of applause, giddy and grinning. "Piper's in the building!" She gave Piper a quick hug and danced with an invisible partner back to the changing room, closing and locking the slatted door behind her.

Paige shrugged. "I guess that means I had better find a purse to match." She disappeared into the store. Seconds later, the hanger with Phoebe's dress on flew over the top of the door, followed by about a foot of the dress before it stopped, draped there.

Piper was sitting down again, looking at the items of clothing in her lap, biting her lip, apparently fighting some kind of internal battle. "You know what?" She said suddenly, snatching up the jacket and the dress by the hangers. "Screw it! Just for today I'm going to say screw it!" She threw up her hands and was halfway to a vacant changing room before she stopped and turned. "Oh, no! I'm sorry, honey, we're meant to be buying clothes for you, aren't we?"

"Oh, I'm good sitting here," Bridget said, smiling. In all truth she was. She didn't want to go into a changing room and try on something that had used to fit her before she got pregnant. That would just be too depressing. She'd get by… somehow. She didn't want to have the sisters come back from the racks with something from the maternity wear section, something that looked like a flowery marquee.

"Here," Piper insisted, shoving the black dress in her hand at Bridget.

"Oh, no… It's a… dress…" Bridget said, with a small, nervous laugh, shaking her head. "Do you know how hard it is to pull a flying roundhouse in a dress?"

"Yes!" Phoebe's muffled voice sympathized from the changing room, sounding very much like she had something over her head.

Piper blinked. "Well, okay…" Piper countered. "Do you have any idea what it's like to try and pull a flying roundhouse – whatever the hell _that_ is – when you've got a baby on board? See, I'd imagine that would be a little difficult. Anything with the word 'flying' becomes a little tricky when you're pregnant. Seeing your feet is a little tricky when you're pregnant…" Piper paused, trailing off with the dress still held out in front of her. "Oh boy, I really didn't miss that…"

Paige returned, passing three purses over the changing room door as well as something purple and shimmering. "I think what Piper's trying to tell you in her _very_ roundabout way is that you're going to be doing more sitting on your ass than kicking ass, so a dress wouldn't inhibit you all that much."

"Ohmigod, Paige!" Phoebe gasped, and the purple disappeared over the door. "Where'd you find this?"

"It was actually on a sale rack. Check out that twenty percent off sign, Piper," Paige said pointedly, waggling her eyebrows at her oldest sister.

Piper rolled her eyes, passing the dress in her hand to Paige. "Sorry, Paige, this just isn't me…" She lovingly ran her hands over the tan suede jacket, shrugging hers off and shrugging into the new one. "This however…" She walked over to the mirrors which allowed her to admire it from three angles. She half-turned before sighing and taking it off. "This does not say, 'Mom'. This says, 'One sticky hand print and I'm history.'" She admired it sadly one last time in her hands before tenderly putting it back on its hanger and turning back to Bridget.

"Come on, sweetie. Let's go and indulge in something elasticized, shall we?" It was a second before Bridget took her outstretched hand for help up, but when she did Piper thought that she could really feel them connecting. Smiling, she led her sort-of daughter-in-law (one day, perhaps. As long as she was sure Ben could keep his astral projecting under control) in the direction of the maternity section.

"It's no good, Paige…" Phoebe said, emerging sad and defeated from the changing room with the purple dress. "It's too long for me."

"Really? Oh…" Paige took the dress and held it up against herself. "Well just look at that. Looks to be just my size, who knew?" Phoebe narrowed her eyes playfully at her sister as Paige slipped into Phoebe's vacated changing room.

_**Learning to Tango**_

Bard turned to make sure his witches had made the journey with him. He dropped them when he realized that they had and grinned, walking around the darkened cavern, stepping over black wires trailing across the floor.

"Is anyone here?" He called, moving to the back of the cave, his voice and footsteps echoing off of the high ceiling and rocky walls, adorned with more cables and flat screen monitors.

Ben sat up. "Normally, I would make some comment about how pathetic it was that we were so good at playing unconscious, but my jaw hurts too much to laugh." Ben rubbed his jaw as he spoke, almost to emphasize the point. "That is the demon we want the info from, though, right?"

"Yeah. Good Witch, Bad Witch." Chris said, taking authority immediately, rotating his shoulder backwards to try and ease the pain, not wanting it to be still or risk it going stiff.

"Bad witch," Ben jumped in with a grin. Off Chris's look he asked, "What?"

"Nothing. I'm just thinking that we've been doing this for way too long…" Chris hadn't meant to put such regret into his voice. He winced inwardly, knowing that Ben would have picked up on it. In all truth he was tired. He was just sick and tired. Demon after demon, probe after probe, attack after attack… He would be glad when his job was done, and there would be a future without a homicidal brother to return to. And maybe – just maybe – he might be able to lead a semi-normal life.

Not the sort of life that his mother craved. However much he tried to conceal it, he actually enjoyed the adrenaline rush that he associated with fighting demons; he enjoyed the feeling that he had done something for the world and for all of those unknowing innocents out there. But at least semi-normal, which would be a life in which he didn't have to hide from his brother anymore.

"You think?" Ben asked sarcastically and was about to push Chris's tone when he cocked his head, hearing the demon's shuffling footsteps coming towards them across the sandy floor. Chris smiled a semi-grim, semi-happy Showtime smile and threw out his hands, freezing the demon in place. With another small hand gesture he unfroze the demon's head, one of the things he had learned in his mother's many Wiccan workshops.

"Wha?" The demon snarled, "You two. I thought you were unconscious."

"Yeah, we recover fast, I guess." Ben said, standing up and brushing himself off.

"Unfreeze me and I'll do all I can to make sure your deaths are relatively painless."

Ben snorted, waving a hand and freezing the demon's hand solid. The demon screamed out in pain, trying to break free of the freeze.

"You deserved that for using such a cliché," Ben told him in disgust, raising his hands again. The demon shied away from Ben's fingers, and the witch grinned. "What's the matter? Afraid I might just-" With a small explosions one of the demon's fingers shattered in a blaze of fire.

Chris winced. "Ooh… You know, that look like it hurt. You might kill him."

"Sorry. My fingers slipped."

"Yeah, well he needs those fingers. Don't slip anymore, got it?"

Ben just rolled his eyes and sighed, yawning theatrically.

"Now, the word out here in the Underworld is that you've got some info on a certain twice-blessed child. You want to share?" Chris asked, folding his arms over his chest.

"I know nothing. I am going to take such pleasure in killing you…" The demon gritted his teeth and tried to break free of the freeze again, but failed.

This time the whole of the demon's hand shattered in a burst of fire. The demon's screams took longer to die this time, and Ben looked down at the floor, trying to let the screams wash over him but failing. It was for the future. The future. He reminded himself of Nixa's marble-cold body and his resolve hardened, when he looked up it looked like the pain of the demon meant nothing to him.

"Easy Ben, that looked kind of painful…"

"Oh, come on. As long as he's got a mouth to talk with, who cares?"

Bard was breathing hard, deep sucking breaths that made his chest heave. "I… know… nothing."

"No? Nothing about a Charmed One's child, perhaps?" Chris asked, half sitting, half leaning on a desk behind him.

The demon's eyes flicked towards Ben, who quirked an eyebrow at him. The witch's arms were folded across his chest like Chris's, and he was drumming the fingers of his right hand on his left upper arm.

"Everyone knows about that child. He is meant to be the end of the entire Underworld. Of course I know about him."

"Nothing specific? Who might want him dead, perhaps?"

"Everyone wants him dead. We're into self-preservation just like humans. Just because we're demons doesn't mean we don't want to live."

Chris gave a non-committal shrug. "Yeah, I guess that makes sense. Only a little birdie told me that you have information, more information, on the kid. So why don't I know it yet?"

Ben raised his hands again, watching fear come alight in the demon's eyes. He let them fall, slapping against his thighs. "You know, this is boring. I mean, you ask him a question, he denies all knowledge, I blow another body part off. I actually have better things to do with my time."

"Well don't kill him…"

This was an act that they had both been perfecting all of their lives. Sometimes in the reverse roles, sometimes in the ones they were in now. It often worked on demons; they were a good team and could do it well. But whatever type of front they put up, they could never truly enjoy it. Desperate times called for desperate and ruthless measures and while it was by no means they're favourite method of subterfuge they couldn't argue with results.

"Not even a little bit?"

Chris rolled his eyes. "Just don't kill him."

Ben pouted and raised his hands, expecting the demon to speak just from the fear. When Bard didn't talk, Ben had to freeze his other hand.

"My… my masters… They… they want to kill the child. But we… all want him dead. I… I tell them that it's suicide, but… ratings…"

Ben and Chris exchanged looks and just as Chris was about to pose another question Bard made a choking noise and he burst outwards. A roaring pillar of flame surged from the sandy floor, and Ben and Chris shielded their eyes from the resulting explosion, Bard's screams echoing before silence reigned again.

"I didn't do that. We didn't do that," Ben said, looking around the seemingly empty cave.

"I can't sense anyone…" Chris said quietly, his eyes narrowed slightly in concentration, tapping his thumbnail against his bottom teeth.

"Well we _are_ in the Underworld," Ben pointed out. "And your ability doesn't work best down here."

"But there should be… Something," Chris persisted. "Some kind of signature, but…" he broke off, shaking his head, "Let's… let's just get out of here…" He didn't like the feeling he was getting. Like tiny bugs creeping up the back of his neck a bad feeling was spreading.

As they orbed away from the cave the air shimmered to reveal Gideon sitting in a plush leather chair, his legs crossed ankle on opposite knee.

"Brats," he snarled, disappearing in a shower of purple orbs. They'd nearly got the demon to confess all, and then he wouldn't be able to put his next plan into motion.

Well, if everything went the way he hoped it would, they'd be dead soon anyway.

_**Learning to Tango**_

"Okay, are we ready?" Phoebe called. In the changing room to her right was Piper, in the room to her left Bridget, the room to Bridget's left contained Paige.

"Just a minute!" Paige called out, fighting with the thin straps. She eventually got them over her shoulders and did a twirl, admiring the colour against her skin. She loved purple. Okay, so she had absolutely nowhere to wear it and no one's jaw to drop now she was single again and it would take many more temp jobs for her to make up the price tag, but who cared? "Okay, that's it!"

"On three then!" Phoebe said. "One, two, THREE!"

The four women burst from their changing room; Phoebe and Paige were clad in their dramatic dresses that wouldn't have looked out of place on a red carpet, along with killers heels. Phoebe had a black purse and a wrap to match the dress and Paige had found a sequined silk scarf.

Piper and Bridget were dressed much more sensibly, in flat shoes that were no less designer than the heels Phoebe and Paige were wearing. Just because they wouldn't be able to see their feet didn't mean they had to wear something cheap on them.

Piper was wearing a long brown skirt and a cream coloured top; both were too big as she wasn't actually pregnant yet. Bridget's clothes looked better on her as they were made to fit around her growing stomach and being able to get into the hipster maternity jeans had pleased Bridget no end.

The sales assistants were glaring at their pouting and posing, but none of them cared. This was fun time, and when you had a life like theirs why the hell not?

_**Learning to Tango**_

"Troxa. I think we found our demon," Ben said, tapping the page.

Chris frowned and leaned on the podium. "Troxa… an invisible demon," he shrugged. "Go figure. His weakness is that his ectoplasmic biochemistry is sensitive to cold and he may become partially visible… Did you actually understand any of that?"

"Nope… Ooh…" Ben winced as he read down the page.

"What?" Chris asked, looking into Ben's face and trying to interpret the expression there.

"Vanquishing spell is Power of Three. You're going to have to interrupt your Mom and aunts. Think you can do that without having your soul eaten four times over?"

"Or being called neurotic," Chris muttered darkly, shoving his hands in his back pockets and thinking for a couple of seconds. "No, we better get them to do this. The sooner we kill the demon behind this the better."

"I think mine was worse," Ben deadpanned. "But rather you than me…" he said, walking backwards a couple of steps to lean against a glass-fronted cupboard and await the arrival of the Charmed Ones.

Just as Chris opened his mouth to call for Paige footsteps announced someone on the stairs. Both of the witches turned to the door, just as the Charmed Ones and Bridget burst in. Phoebe was wearing over-large dark glasses and had a silk scarf flung over her shoulder, and they were all laden down with shopping and giggling. Letting out a collective breath they sank onto the couch, dropping the bags to the boarded floor.

They were still in fits of laughter and one of the bags fell over, spilling its contents slightly. An innocuous light grey shoebox slipped from the top, but none of the four women noticed.

"And did you see her face when Phoebe threw that scarf over her shoulder…?"

"…and swept out of the shop saying 'Ciao!'?"

There was more laughing this time, and Ben and Chris exchanged looks. Ben felt a pang of jealousy that was so automatically and immediately quashed that after a couple of seconds he wasn't even sure that he had felt it. They'd been having fun – not that he'd ever begrudge anyone fun – while he'd been rolling down a slope covered with pointy stones in the Underworld.

And there was Bridget, laughing and smiling as if she didn't have a care in the world, when she, too, knew that the future would be like if they didn't work to stop Wyatt, and they were sitting there giggling like teenagers.

Looking at them you would never think that the fate of the world rested on at least three of the women, Ben thought dryly. They were ditzy and so damn ordinary it scared him sometimes.

"No one- no one put a spell on you guys, did they?" Chris asked uncertainly, taking an unintentional step backwards. This was a new and an interesting development and he didn't really feel like being the adult here. His head still hurt from hitting it on that rock, so the last thing he wanted to do was end up acting the grownup for what basically looked like a bunch of schoolgirls.

"What?" Piper said, looking up and turning around, seemingly noticing him for the first time. He felt slight rejected that she hadn't noted his presence, before reminding himself that he had never meant to get close enough to his mother to feel rejection anyway. "Oh, no, sweetie. I just- I just haven't had that much fun in such a while." She wiped her eyes with the heel of her hand and smiled brightly.

"So, I hear you've been in the Underworld. What's the word on the demon front?" Paige asked, pressing her lips together to try and suppress another laugh. She failed and set the others off, but she just felt giddy – giddy and free.

"Okay, can we focus here on the demon? Then we can concentrate on whatever assbackwards problem you all have, got it?" Chris said, nodding his head as if encouraging kindergarteners. He swivelled the top half of the podium around, displaying Troxa's page. "We think this is one of the demons after Wyatt. He killed one of his minions-"

"We're using the word minions?" Paige asked, wrinkling her nose.

Chris rolled his eyes, exasperated. "Well what would you prefer we call them?"

"Foot Soldiers of Darkness?" Paige tried eagerly, and then relapsed back into laughter again. Chris ground his teeth together impatiently.

Ben blinked, his mouth open. "Were there any demons at the mall?"

"We're just a little high on spending," Phoebe said, "really." She, too, was suppressing more laughs and cleared her throat in an attempt to look serious.

"How did you get cut up?" Piper asked, finally noticing the dried blood marring their arms, faces and necks. She got up concernedly, all laughter gone from her at least.

"Long story," Chris retorted shortly, concealing an eye roll at the lack of attention paid to them and waving the question away. There was no time for lengthy explanations. He gestured back to the book, starting to explain about Troxa but Piper wouldn't let them be.

"You're going to have to put something on that," she said, turning to her sisters. "Paige, will you go and get the hydrogen peroxide from the bathroom please?"

"Mo-om!" Chris dragged the word out in frustration and embarrassment, gently slapping her hands away as they inspected his arm. He managed to untangle himself from her grip and took a step backwards, wrenching his sleeves down. None of his wounds were deep or serious and he hugged his to his chest.

"Aw, that's cute," Bridget mocked, smiling angelically. Chris scowled at her, but she only smiled wider, blowing him a discrete kiss as Paige came back with an armful of medical supplies from the bathroom. She tipped them onto an empty armchair and Chris goggled, wondering how many armies they were planning on patching up from their bathroom cabinet.

"We're _fine_," Chris protested, trying to bring their attention back to the Book. "But we'd be better if you could take a couple of seconds to memorize this spell, so we can summon our demon and kill him."

"Sweetie, Troxa is already dead," Piper said, twisting the cap off of the bottle and pouring a little of the liquid onto a cotton ball, brandishing it in front of her almost menacingly as Chris took a step backwards.

"Dead? But…" His shoulder's dropped. That left them with no leads, once again. Incredibly tempted to kick the Book across the room he turned on his heel to pace in frustration, but then turned back just in time to block Piper's lunge at him.

No way was he going to be cleaned up with that stuff. Not in this lifetime, or indeed timeline. It hurt like hell. He almost wished his mother hadn't noticed his state, despite the fact that her ignorance would have stung more than the hydrogen peroxide in her hand.

"It'll only sting for a minute, and the stinging means it's helping," Piper coaxed gently, as Bridget smothered giggles.

"Chris, don't be such a baby. You're meant to be a hardened demon fighter and you're acting like a four-year-old over some First Aid," Bridget said, rolling her eyes. "You could just not clean it up, of course, and get gangrene or something, which would be so unattractive, by the way…"

"Yeah, I think child psychology only works on children," Ben said, smirking at Bridget. She narrowed her eyes and grabbed a cushion from behind her to throw at him, but it floated to the floor in a snowstorm of grey ash mid-air.

"Oh, no! No, no, no…" Bridget said, shaking her head and then putting it in her hands. "I thought I'd got that under control… Aaarg…"

The only time she'd ever felt her elation disappear so quickly into despair was the night that she came home and found her parents… She squeezed her eyes shut, refusing to let her façade crack and let a torrent rush through. She sucked in a deep breath of air through trembling lips and looked up again at Piper, obviously torn between attacking Chris's wounds with peroxide and cleaning up the floor.

_It was grey and drizzly, and tiny silver beads of the moisture drifting aimlessly in the dreary Washington air that was so utterly different to California and yet so likeable all at once. She could blend in here, be a different person, have new friends, normal friends and most of all the dullness here made everything seem so insignificant, so… familiar, despite the fact that it wasn't. Californian sun highlighted individuals, it didn't allow for concealment._

_The SAT score was burning a hole in her pocket, and despite the fact that she was walking fast she tried to double her pace. Her leg muscles burned but she hadn't used her endurance for a while and she enjoyed it. So, pumping her leg muscles harder she made her way home._

_She opened the front door, tossed her keys onto the pot on the hall table with pinpoint accuracy, hung her coat in the hall closet and noticed that the house was in darkness. The Washington evening was closing in on the house, masking it in greyness._

"_Mom? Dad?" She walked through the modest house, flicking the lights on as she went. The hall lights flared to life and she turned left into the kitchen, switching on the fluorescent bulbs as she went, barely managing to conceal a cringe at the way they illuminated her. She clutched her envelope tightly in her fist._

_She passed the dining room – it was a room they only used for company which was thankfully rare – and entered the den, twisting the dimmer on the wall to full. Her father's thinning head was showing above the sofa and her mother head – oddly – was to be seen over the back of her father's easy chair, something unheard of. It was her dad's throne, and no one sat in it. She had done almost a full circle of the house now; the hall could be seen through the other door of the den._

"_Mom, I-" The chair eerily turned of its own accord and she found her mother, her clothes stained crimson, her eyes glazed. Brown dried blood had dribbled down her chin and Bridget backed away in horror, dropping the envelope to the floor. "Mommy?" Her voice squeaked as tears filled her eyes and she dropped to her knees, the deep pile carpet squelching._

_Suddenly she surged up, vaulting over her father's head and coming to rest catlike in front of him, already knowing what she would see. Jeremy Vance was slumped in the chair, just like he should have been in his easy chair, the remote in his hand. But the remote was on the floor and there was no TV on to stare intently at…_

_Bile rose in her throat and she staggered back out to the kitchen and relived her lunch down the waste disposal unit, breathing heavily. Her hair was stuck to her tear-tracked face and as she reached into the dishwasher for a clean glass the shaking of her hands intensified and she dropped it. _

She didn't remember the tumbler shattering, because at that moment a figure stepped from the dining room and with a flash of light and a loud sound and a searing pain in her temple, her life before and indeed after that became a fractured mess.

She absently pulled her hair over the scar the bullet had left now and took in a deep breath, clasping her hands in her lap to stop them shaking. She focused on the scene in the attic in the here and now, something that she could at least have an influence on.

Piper had decided to abandon the tidying and was forcing Chris and Ben onto the other, much more blasted, couch. Apparently 'no' was not in her vocabulary either. She gave them both the Piper Look that deserved to be patented and they knew it was useless. As they flopped backwards at exactly the same time Piper knelt down at their feet and began dabbing at Chris with the pellucid liquid. He hissed in pain and his mother's demanding hand around his wrist was all that kept him from snatching it back from her. He scowled, which just made her smile all the more.

For someone literally carrying the fate of the world on his shoulders, her son was such a kid. Fortunately none of the wounds looked deep nor life-threatening, only dirty. Which would save on them calling for Leo because he was really not their favourite person right now, and vice versa.

Biting her lip to suppress laughter she stuck a _Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles _band-aid over a graze on her son's arm as he let out a snort of laughter and put his free hand to his head, rubbing it over his eyes and groaning.

"I'm guessing this could get very humiliating very quickly, right?" He mused, settling back and letting his Mom clean him up. "Ow!" He yelped, as she dabbed at a cut that hadn't quite stopped bleeding yet.

A few bloody cotton wool balls and a lot of Band-Aid backings later both Ben and Chris were covered in multi-coloured cartoon characters, from _The Rugrats _to _Peanuts._

"Yeah. You'd never guess that we were nearly twenty-three, would you?" Ben asked dryly as the sisters and Bridget snickered at them. He grinned sheepishly at the back of his hand, which proudly bore Tommy with his screwdriver aloft, and then rolled his eyes.

Bridget rolled her eyes. "I just hit 20 and I still have the undeniable urge to watch _Rugrats_. You need to deal with the fact that your low level of maturity is showing." Ben stuck out his tongue and Bridget did so right back.

"It's cute though. You've gotta admit." Phoebe said, the corners of her mouth twitching.

Chris felt a blush creep up his neck, so he quickly jumped to his feet. "Okay, well if we're done with the laughing at us, we still have some kind of demon to cap-"

He heard orbing lights behind him and turned to find Leo standing there, dressed in full Elder garb. Chris sneered at the robe and folded his arms across his chest, throwing himself back into the couch besides Ben. The poor old piece of furniture squeaked its protests.

"We-"

"Oh, it's 'we' now," Chris muttered darkly.

Leo took his breath and closed his eyes for a second before continuing, his tongue pushing a bulge in his cheek. "The Elders and I," he continued deliberately, gritting his teeth and refusing to look at either Chris or Ben, "need your help."

"Ah, a mission," Paige said brightly, standing up. "What have you got in mind?"

"Well, we're not sure, but it looks like there's been a sudden surge in witch killings…" He paused and began pacing slightly. "A whitelighter reported her charge missing this morning, and then by the time she found her charge, she was dead. It's starting to happen all over…" he hesitated again. "I just want you to investigate. Nothing that's going to get you into trouble or see you ending up the same way the other witches have, okay?"

"Sure. Do you have anything for us to scry with?" Paige asked.

Leo held out his hand and orbed an athame onto a small, round end table. "We think the demon used this on one of its victims, but it also might belong to the witch that was killed. But it's the best lead we've got, I'm afraid."

"Okay. Well Leo, if you could take Bridget back to Magic School then we'll get started." Phoebe's face fell. "Well my sisters will get started, but I have deadline, so I'm really sorry, guys. I'm going to have to bail on you."

She looked torn between the map already spread across the table and the stairs. Paige scrunched her nose.

"Okay, well the next two demons are yours," she said, and Phoebe felt relieved. Paige has just said the very thing she wanted to hear – albeit subconsciously. Her half-sister wasn't going to make Phoebe feel guilty about having a job and a life, so she hightailed it down the stairs, mindful of her heels, where she grabbed her keys and left for the _Bay Mirror._

After another whirlwind Phoebe departure Paige lifted the scrying crystal with one hand and clutched the hilt of the weapon with the other, taking a deep breath in and out. "Okay." she said, drawing the word out. "Let's see what we've got here."

_**Learning to Tango**_

The light coming through the stained glass windows was golden now, slanting at a steep angle. Ben and Chris sat on the couch, the Book on a table in front of them, quietly flipping through its many pages and scribbling notes on potential demons that might just turn Wyatt evil.

So far they'd come up with hardly anything. There were so many demons – some of which were dead, or banished, or banished then dead… Some of them were alive, some of them were unknowns. Even Chris – someone who studied his family history intently – couldn't remember all of the demons and warlocks that had been vanquished since Melinda Warren. He sighed, flipping another page and scribbling a note in the top left corner of the yellowed parchment.

He sat back when he realized that so far they were only halfway through the demon section of the book and closed his burning eyes. Piper had left to open the club, and Leo had orbed Bridget back to Magic School and hadn't returned. Phoebe was probably pulling an all-nighter at the paper to make her deadline and Paige, tired of the cramps in both of her arms and the ache in her head from the crystal's dizzying circles, had actually decided to go for a night-shift temp job for a break.

Ben yawned, stretched and got up; taking a small black book he had been looking in with him. It was something he'd found while routing through a set of cardboard boxes looking for other demon reference books, and, while it didn't actually have any demons in it, it had some pretty good spells. He'd have to come looking up here in the future and find it.

He was just about to suggest that they shut the Book for the night and maybe go to P3 when Leo orbed into the attic for the second time that day. Chris looked up from the tome that he had shifted onto his lap and his sore eyes hardened when he saw his father.

Leo was outlined by the late afternoon sun and shone even after the orbing lights faded, which just annoyed Chris even more. He may be an angel, but in reality he was a nothing, a nothing and a nobody. The witch-whitelighter regarded him for a short while before turning back to his research, ignoring his father.

"Where are the girls?" Leo asked, crossing the room and imposing himself into his son's line of vision. Chris, adamant he wasn't going to look up, flipped another page.

"Out," he said shortly, taking his pen and making the beginnings of a note.

"Do they know you're defacing the Book of Shadows?" Leo demanded, infuriated all the more as Chris rolled his eyes.

"I'm improving, not defacing," Chris corrected angrily, only managing to form another three letters before Leo grabbed the ballpoint, which surged across the page taking a black line with it. "Hey!"

"If I were you, Leo, I'd let him get on with it," Ben said. "Chris has spent so much time studying for this; he knows what he's doing."

The pen flew back into Chris's outstretched hand. He rearranged his fingers around it and was about to write when Leo orbed the pen away and out of the room. Probably into the fiery pit of purgatory.

Chris heaved the Book off of his lap and stood up. Taller than Leo, he looked down on his father. "I was using that!"

"Not until you've answered my question. Where. Are. The. Girls? Or do you not care?"

Chris's eyes blazed. "How dare you say that! How dare you? After all I've done for Wyatt and Mom and my aunts how can you say I don't care? _You're_ the one who doesn't care, Leo Wyatt. You think you're so high and mighty just because you do jack but sit on a cloud all day!" His hands were clenching and unclenching at his sides as he fought the desire to punch Leo. All of his hate and anger came bubbling to the surface for the second time and he started to wonder if he'd ever be able to vent all of it. "Why don't you just sense them? Or have you become too separate from them to be able to?

"You're the one that just drops in from the future and expects everyone to start running around after you! Now where are the girls?"

"Running… Leo, you_ followed_ me around for _ages_ after I came back here. I never asked you to do that, as I recall I was actually pretty pissed about it. Now if you'll excuse me…" He crossed the room to a table stacked with pens and notepads for spell-writing but Leo's arm caught him hard across the chest and he staggered back slightly, enraged. "What is your _problem!"_

"My problem, Chris, is the way you're speaking to your father."

"Exactly. Father, not Dad. One little sperm is what makes you my father. What makes you my Dad doesn't exist."

Leo was stunned enough to let Chris pass and choose another pen from the table, but soon he rounded on his son again. He grabbed a handful of Chris's shirt, swinging the witch-whitelighter around and confronting him directly. Pens scattered and the table fell over.

Chris orbed away, but Leo made an angry gesture with his hands and the orbing lights crashed into the wall. Chris cried out in pain as he reappeared, gripping the pen so hard it snapped.

"Look at me when I'm talking to you. Now you may not care, but I love your mother and her sisters and when I ask a simple question I expect an answer, do you understand me, Christopher? Well?"

Chris threw the useless halves down and raised his hand to Leo, but Ben got there fast, blowing the Elder to pieces. Leo scattered in a cloud of orbs, which Chris froze in midair.

"I always liked him better that way," he said as Ben helped him up off of the floor.

_**Learning to Tango**_

**_I'm not going to beg for reviews. Because this sucks, I suck, and I actually enjoy having a shred of dignity._**

_**Did I mention that I slept for the whole of five minutes on the bus this morning until someone poked me? I mean, that was the only sleep I got. Grumble. Gah. Yeah. Whatever. Let's thank the shiny people so I can move on with my pathetic excuse for a life. Ugh.**_

_**Oh, and before anyone enquires I am about… ooh… eight inches from my pretty shiny Mental Breakdown of the Month. **_

**Stony Angel****- Oy, I bet you're sick of the waiting, huh? Thanks for sticking by me. And I'm feeling mean, grumble. Too much Charmed recaps on TWoP does that. Heh. Go figure. Thanks for sticking with me, hun.**

**D****ominique1****: Tell me about it. And thanks a lot. Thank you much, muchly! Heh. At this rate I am never going to finish this stupid thing. Gah. Heh, thanks a lot. Yeah… Ignore me. I've gone into pretty shiny land where all the things I hate are smudge marks…**

**ilovedrew88****- Hey! Thanks for reviewing. Unfortunately for you, you've just hooked onto one hell of a lazy ass writer. Heh. Thanks a lot, though. And don't mind me, I'm cranky. Sleep, remember, is good. Staying awake until your alarm clock goes off because you've forgotten to go to bed is bad. Go figure. No, I'm nice really. Just not today. **


	10. Chapter 10

Chris didn't _want_ to argue with his father. It wasn't his main aim to provoke conflict between them, but when Leo had orbed down from Up There to find the sisters and had started throwing his weight around, demanding that Chris tell him where they were rather than sensing them himself Chris couldn't help but argue. Sure, he had been hostile towards his estranged father, but Leo had started it, and Leo deserved to be the scattering of orbs in the middle of the attic.

"He's…" Chris broke off, not able to find the words. "He just…" he let out a frustrated growl, as much because he had allowed Leo to get to him as because he could not express how he felt. A rocking chair suddenly swung wildly back and forth, rumbling across the boards and threatening to tip itself backwards.

"An asshole. Yeah," Ben supplied, sitting down on the couch and leaning forward his elbows on his thighs and his hands clasped in the middle of his apart knees. He put his head back down, staring at his hands as Chris made another furious circuit of the room, taking out his frustration on a stack of cardboard boxes. The side of the bottom one buckled and the top ones wobbled dangerously before settling, Ben looked up and eyed them warily, but Chris just kept pacing.

"I don't know what I'm doing…" Chris said, running a distracted hand through his hair. "I'm meant to be saving Wyatt, not stressing over _that_." He gestured to the cloud of orbs that used to be his father with an expression of distaste on his face. He lapsed deep into thought, concentrating more on the possible connections between the lower level demon and the upper level one that turned Wyatt than keeping his powers in check.

"Wait-" Chris said, frowning. "That demon was killed with some kind of light dart, right?"

"When?"

"When we were at the bottom of the slope. The one that we questioned killed the other demon that wanted us with a light dart, yeah?"

Ben flashed him a smile of realization. "And that demon was too low-level to have the kind of power. The demon it killed even said so. That means that there must be some kind of power racket going on down there. And the demon at the head could be the one that turns Wyatt, right?"

"Got it. So…" Chris, infused with more energy now, crossed excitedly to the Book of Shadows. "So we need to find out-"

An explosion made Chris jerk up and he realized that it was the orbs in the corner finishing blowing up with a bright burst of flame. Leo reformed in the attic and Chris rolled his eyes, folding his arms over his chest. "What?"

"Just because that doesn't kill me, doesn't mean it doesn't hurt!" Leo yelled, rubbing a point in his chest.

Chris didn't bat an eyelid and replied, "Your negligence as a parent didn't kill me, but that didn't mean it didn't hurt." He fought to keep a straight face, even though saying the words still stung. And he hated that he took pleasure from watching Leo's face fall. He never used to be like this before it all happened… "Look, Leo. I'm kinda busy right now and… yeah."

"How can I make this better if I can't get close to you?" Leo said, taking a step towards Chris. Chris stepped backwards, uncomfortable with the proximity.

"It's just something you've gotta except. I'm not ready to deal with this right now. In fact, I shouldn't be doing this at all. I have a job to do, okay?" It was all to much. To have your dad suddenly return to wanting to be a parent when he had spent so long as an absentee father was daunting. It just made things more confusing, more clouded. And if his thoughts were clouded then he couldn't be expected to do the job he had came here to do, could he?

Leo seemed placated by this and gave a small, understanding smile before his eyes glazed over and he seemed to be staring through the attic wall. A dark shadow passed over his brain, and something akin to a nasty little voice that he had felt earlier started whispering malicious things at him. It was back, worming through his thoughts and digging through his suspicions.

_He's not really your son. Look at him. Would you raise a kid that way?_

Chris was leaning over the book, flipping through the pages, determination etched across his face. Of course Leo could raise a kid like that. He had the determination, and the courage and the intelligence…

"No…" Leo's lips barely moved but both Ben and Chris looked up in confusion.

"Did you say something?"

_Don't trust him._ The voice took on a more commanding, almost desperate tone._ He's working on turning your sons. That's what he came back from the future to do. He thinks he can use Wyatt to rule._

"Leo?"

_You know Wyatt. That angel of a kid in his playpen. He wouldn't be evil… Wait… Is he even in the playpen? What have these guys done to him?_

Leo's heart clenched with fear, an empty playpen running through his mind. No, this was all wrong. Chris was a good person, a good brother to Wyatt. He was trying to save the future…

_Ah, but is he _really? _That's a question one should ask, isn't it? Wyatt's gone…_

Leo was dimly aware of one of the attic's other occupants talking to him, but the words were hollow and he didn't catch their meanings. He barely caught separate syllables. The distrust and fear began to build within the Elder, just as it hard earlier. Who was Chris really? And why did he always seem to have a hidden agenda?

The two witches came forwards towards Leo cautiously and slowly. Chris tried to say something, but he wasn't really sure what to say and his good intentions just petered out. Neither of them noticed the small blue spark that jumped between Leo's forefinger and thumb.

_Why would you trust anyone that has fathered the next Source of All Evil?_

Leo let out an anguished cry and brought his arm into the air, hitting Ben in the chest and throwing him backwards onto the floor. The witch grunted at sat up, just in time to see Leo unleash a torrent of blue-white lightning at Chris.

Ben flicked his wrist and attracted an old typewriter into the lightning's path. There was a bright display of white sparks and then a loud clunk as the smouldering, melted remains of what had been the typewriter fell to the floor. Leo balled his fists and Chris, thinking that Leo was going to unleash another electrical torrent, raised his arm to deflect it. Leo, however, charged at him and tackled the witch-whitelighter around the waist, sending them both to the floor. Chris was surprised, not realizing that Leo even knew how to pin someone and twisted his head just in time for Leo's fist to graze his ear. The Elder punched the floor and he howled in pain. Ben dived to the other side of the room to grab the object he needed.

"What are you doing to my sons? How dare you do this to my family? Huh!" Leo dragged Chris up by the collar of the shirt.

The pages of the black book crinkled as Ben flicked past them.

"_Let petty jealous-_ Heh. Uh… _Let random and completely unprovoked angry rage pass into darkest night,  
And these two feuding family members will no longer fight!"_

The spell building between them actually blew Leo and Chris apart. The landed on the floor, skidded and led still.

"Crap," Ben muttered darkly. "Just perfect." He looked down guiltily at the book in his hands and closed it gently, tossing it sideways onto the couch. He really wished he could say that that was the first spell he had ever screwed up, but no, it wasn't. Ben walked over to Chris, who was just starting to stir, to help him up.

He extended his arm absently towards his best friend, thinking more about what kind of consequence the backfire to the spell was going to have than what was going on around him and it took him a couple of seconds to realize that there was already an arm there. He blinked and followed the hand up to Leo's face. Ben's jaw dropped. Wow. He'd never known a spell with such a backfire to work before. Explosions and blasting usually meant that the spell had gone wrong. But Leo was being friendly towards his son. That could only mean that the spell had worked, couldn't it?

Chris took his father's hand warily, glaring at Ben as he winced on the way up, his eyes only leaving Leo's face for a second to complete that task. With a swift and sudden movement Leo jerked Chris forward so fast that Chris stumbled and nearly fell on his face and before Ben could raise his hands to blow Leo up for the threatening gesture Leo was hugging Chris.

Ben stood partially frozen in shock, his hands still raised and his mouth still agape. He nearly blew the pair apart in shock and as Leo tightened the embrace and patted Chris on the back Ben saw his friend stiffen in apparent shock as well. When Leo finally broke his grasp and Chris was actually speechless.

"Chris! Dude!" Leo's smile was ear-to-ear and he stood back grinning. "So where's the party?"

"P-party?" Chris asked, forcing the words off of his tongue. He was still shell-shocked from the hug. He swallowed nervously his forehead crinkled into a frown.

"Yeah! It's time to party!" He looked down at himself before striding across the attic towards the door, his robes billowing as he walked. "But these aren't party clothes."

"Did… did he just say 'dude'?" Ben was frozen to the spot, not entirely sure what had just happened. Maybe this was some weird kind of dream. Or maybe it was the after-effects of one-too-many energy balls hitting him. But Leo-

Suddenly he was jerked out of it. Chris had grabbed a handful of his shirt sleeve and was dragging him across the attic after his father.

"I am _so_ going to kill you," the witch muttered, leading Ben down the stairs and towards the master bedroom. The door was open and Leo was standing in front of the chest of drawers in the bedroom he used to share with Piper, tossing his ex-wife's clothes out and onto and around the bed.

Chris blinked as a sweater unfolded midair and soared backwards over Leo's shoulder, landing in a cream woollen heap just shy of Leo's old side of the bed. The Elder slammed that drawer closed and moved onto another one, tossing balled socks about the room.

"Uh- Dad?" He wanted to stop his father before Leo got to Piper's underwear drawer because - yeah. That would be enough to traumatize a guy for a lifetime. He really didn't need to see his dad pawing through his mother's-

You know what? It didn't even bear thinking about.

"Uh your stuff- Your clothes are in the attic, in boxes since, well-" Chris wanted to finish that sentence, 'Since you ran off Up There and abandoned us completely,' but he caught himself, remembering that in this timeline he had driven his father Up There before his time. Which meant that Leo was going to be there even less for him. Chris couldn't tell if that was going to make it better or worse.

"Hey, that's cool, Chris. I'll go change and we'll get this party started!" He cheered as he walked back towards the attic steps, leaving Chris staring confusedly at his back.

Ben wondered if Chris was channelling Bridget with the look he gave him. No one could give The Look as well as those two. At least Bridget, you knew the threat of pain hung over you. Chris… Well he was a bit more unpredictable. "Reverse this spell. _Now_."

"What, you don't like your new and improved Dad?" Ben asked with a false grin. Chris's intensified glare was all the reply he needed and he rolled his eyes, heading back up to the attic after Leo. "But I'm not going to guarantee that there's a reversal spell in that book…"

"If there's not, then you're going to be telling Mom about it, not me," Chris said, waiting for his friend to enter the attic first.

Leo was standing in the middle of the room buckling the belt on his jeans. As Chris watched Leo shrug into a shirt and button it up he wished he'd given him for time to change.

"Uh yeah…" Chris cleared his throat awkwardly and leant against the doorframe.

Ben was sitting on the couch, rifling through the small black book looking for a reversal spell. He just kept flipping past pages filled with slanting, looping handwriting, scanning the titles but not finding any reversal spells. Spells for freezing, spells for muting, spells for making one party apologize to another, spells for sleeping, spells for pain relief… it just went on and on. It seemed like whichever Halliwell had written this had a lot of time on their hands. Or just a great need for spells to mute people. God, Ben knew how that felt.

"I can't find a reversal spell." Ben said to Chris, looking up as he reached the back cover. None of the spells in here had been to reverse the others' effects. Maybe whoever had written them had not intended for them to be reversed. Chris looked more pensive than angry as Leo finished buttoning his shirt, and Ben wondered if his friend had even heard him.

"Can you make one up?" Chris asked, and Ben knew that he had heard him.

"Yeah," Ben said. His brain had actually been in panic mode, working on one since Leo and Chris had been blasted apart. "Return the magic I cast here-"

"Do you guys have any beer in the house?" Leo asked, pushing past both of them towards the attic stairs. Ben was startled into silence.

"Beer?" Chris echoed in disbelief. "You want beer?"

"Sure. Nice cold one. Damn I'm thirsty." Having descended the two flights of stairs following Leo, the two witches rounded the corner through the dining room and into the kitchen. Leo opened the fridge and pulled out a can of beer. He snapped the lid and threw his head back, chugging it down his throat. He finished the whole can in one sitting, wiped his mouth on the back of his hand and crumpled it, tossing it idly over to the trash bin. It bounced off of the rim and clattered to the floor. Leo scowled, but making no effort to go and retrieve it.

Chris smacked Ben in the stomach with the back of his hand and Ben's voice stuttered back to life with his half finished spell. Leo had opened the fridge again and popped another beer out of the six-pack rings before Ben was even done with the first line.

"Get down!" Leo yelled suddenly, leaping forward and tackling the two witches around the waist bringing them both heavily to the floor. There was a collective grunt as the air left both of their lungs and Ben's head smacked against the tiles, turning the ceiling into a mess of spinning stars.

Ben and Chris rolled slightly to face the doorway, their ribs protesting dully. Expecting to see a demon, Chris reached up for the kitchen island to pull himself into a vague fighting position. Chris didn't see any threat and Leo got up and dusted himself off, grinning.

"Gotcha, didn't I?"

"Yeah," Ben croaked. "That was so funny. Ow…"

Leo's shoe slapped wetly into a brown puddle on the floor and he looked at his beer can and swallowed what remained in it. "Damn. I'm gonna get some more, few buddies, and then we can PARTY!"

"Dad. No. You've gotta stay here so we can reverse the spell- Dad… DAD!" Chris raised his hands to freeze his father's orbing lights but the Elder was too far dematerialized and nothing happened, save for about three small balls of light stopping mid-motion until they, too, eventually winked out.

"Er… Should he be drinking and orbing?" Ben asked, getting up off the floor. Chris just glared at him.

_**Learning to Tango**_

"When he orbs in here, I'll freeze him and then you undo the spell, okay? Hopefully he won't remember any of this, because if Mom finds out, she'll probably kill us both. Especially if we don't clean up the mess in her bedroom before she gets back. As you remember she kind of gets a little touchy about misused magic whizzing around everywhere."

Ben rolled his eyes and itched around the edge of a Batman Band-Aid on his elbow. Having caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror above the fireplace in the Dining Room, he knew he had an identical one on his forehead. He smiled to himself as Chris had multiple heart failures over the situation, pressing the sticky edges of the band-aid down harder to prevent them from lifting and revealing a scab. The Charmed Ones were right – his friend was neurotic. Ben wasn't sure when it had happened. Even after Wyatt had turned, Chris hadn't stopped being fun. Perhaps it was coming back to the past and balancing the fate of the world on your shoulders. Yeah. That would do it.

"Come on – when did you stop being fun anyway? Don't you think you're overreacting? I mean, Leo's actually lightened up for once, why is that a bad thing?"

"Because he can't help us with whatever demon turns Wyatt if he's running around getting drunk, can he?" Chris snapped, putting his head in his hands for a couple of seconds to try and focus.

Suddenly he heard the familiar sound of orbing and he looked up, blinking twice to make sure he was actually seeing the scene in front of him. The parlour and the foyer were filled with blue and white orbs coalescing into people around him. In their hands they carried bags of chips and bottles of beer, vodka, rum, Jack Daniels, footballs, basketballs, six packs, silly string and Chris even thought he caught sight of the green glint of absinth.

Wondering how the Elders had managed to ditch their robes so fast and change into street clothes as well as acquiring such a large amount of alcohol, Chris pushed aside his thoughts – most of which, incidentally, were screaming 'Uh-oh,' at him – and raised his hands, freezing all of the Elders in place. He was actually getting tired of freezing people tonight. It required a small amount of concentration to pull it off, even though he was so practiced in doing so and his mind felt scattered tonight. Some part of it was still working on possible leads from the demon they had interrogated down in the Underworld.

"How… What…?"

"Leo must have passed it on somehow," Chris realized. Leo had somehow managed to infect the other Elders with his new party mentality, and it had spread like wildfire. He guessed that this is what you got for being so uptight and repressed all the time. A small chance of a vent and boom, everyone wanted it. "Just say the spell and fix this. My head is starting to hurt."

"_Return the magic I cast here,  
And let this spell disappear."_

"That was pathetic."

"Thanks."

There was a short pause. "Did it work?" Chris wondered, frowning as he looked around at the frozen Elders.

"You tell me," Ben said, waiting for Chris to unfreeze the room's other occupants. With a small hand gesture Chris unfroze the parlour and immediately the noise of orbing finishing off and chatter and raucous laughter filled the room.

"PARTY!" Someone yelled, and then a loud cheer went up.

"I'd say that was a pretty certain 'no'," Ben said, wincing as an Elder dribbled beer down his shirt in his hurry to drink it. It didn't take long for someone to find the stereo and the speakers leapt to life with a bass beat that actually vibrated and the sounds of drums crashing deafened the two witches before the group practically twisted the volume knob off. Chris hadn't even realized that the sisters _owned_ anything like that. At least not yet.

"WHERE'S LEO!" Chris asked, looking around the room at the seething mass of adults dancing and drinking. A female Elder with short, greying hair was already dancing on the dining room table, shouting something that was lost in the noise and swigging from the bottle clutched in her hand. What could be loosely described as a singer blared onto the track, screeching loud enough to make Chris's teeth vibrate inside his head.

"WHAT?"

"LEO! WHERE IS HE?"

"I DON'T KNOW!" Ben frowned and turned around on the sofa, looking around for the Elder. The crystal in the chandelier was actually clinking together from the onslaught of noise.

Angrily Chris pushed himself off of the couch and past a knot of people dancing in the living room doorway. Once in the living room he dropped to his hands and knees, weaving his way in between the mass of legs, squirming as some kind of alcohol dribbled onto his shirt, making it stick to his back. Oh well, at least he'd saved the rug. Behind him Ben was following on two legs, pushing past the crowd.

"DO YOU WANT TO DANCE?" An Elder with her long red hair in a ponytail running down the centre of her back had grabbed his arm and as he tried to pull away from her she held on tighter. "C'MON! LOOSEN UP A LITTLE!" She grabbed his other arm and started jumping up and down wildly, her hair bobbing and swaying violently, whipping Ben in the face several times. Her eyes were closed and when Ben wrenched away from her she nearly fell on her face. She opened them to glare at him, but the crowd had already swallowed him.

A cloud of blue-grey smoke rose from the back of the couch and Ben snatched the cigarette out of the Elder's hand as he brought it back to his lips for a second drag. He has just started to inhale when then the cigarette disappeared and he choked out clouds of smoke, glaring at Ben, obviously thinking the witch had stolen it to take a puff. He looked mildly surprised when Ben flicked it back at his chest, the tip iced over and reached into his pocket for another one.

Ben finally made it to the other side of the room and found Chris with his hand jammed behind the back of the stereo cabinet. He wore a look of concentration on his face, his tongue poking out slightly whilst caught between his teeth.

"Got it!" He muttered triumphantly, wrenching the plug from the socket. Immediately Ben felt himself sag in relief: never had he been so happy to hear so much quiet. In fact, it rang in his ears before the people talking realized that it had gone and started to boo. Chris gripped the plug tighter in his hand and ignored them.

"Did you see Leo anywhere?" Ben asked.

Chris shook his head. "No. That's why the spell didn't work. You cast the spell on him, not the other Elders. So you've got to reverse the magic on him before the magic can be reversed on the rest of them."

"Nice theory."

"You got a better one?"

"Nope. I just wanna know why for once, it can't go smooth. Why is that? Why can't it ever go smooth..." Ben groused, scanning the crowd for Leo. Elders were crammed into the doorways of the room, trying to see what the trouble with the music was. The Elder lounging on the chair smoking waved his hand at the stereo and a single spark cracked through Chris's body from the plug in his hand and he yelped loudly, dropping it to the floor as the appliance surged back to life without the aid of electricity.

Stumbling backwards away from the speakers Ben and Chris managed to fight their way back towards the parlour and then through the dining room into the kitchen, where the noise was blissfully much quieter. Leo was bent over a beer keg on the other side of the kitchen island, attaching the hose to it.

"You made it!" Leo babbled, enthused as he tested the hose, purging the foam down the sink.

"We live here, Leo," Chris reminded him, cocking an eyebrow at his father.

"Yeah, yeah. Listen, you wanna help me roll this in there for the guys?"

"Heh. Sorry, Leo, but-"

"No biggie," Leo promised them, orbing out with the keg.

"Okay, how does he keep managing to evade a stupid two line spell!" Chris exploded, walking back through the dining room. He couldn't see Leo anywhere. "Dammit…"

"Well-"

Something on Chris's left shattered and he looked around, expecting to see that an Elder's elbow had smashed a vase. Instead he had to throw himself on the floor as a demon launched an energy ball at him through the doorway of the sunroom. It shattered the centrepiece at the dancing Elder's feet and she flipped the demon off, moving around the smashed pot.

Ben flicked his wrists and blew the demon up into a blaze of fire, leaving a slight scorch mark on the floor. "Perfect, so we have to deal with demon attacks too?" Ben said, just as Chris yanked him to the floor. A fireball whizzed from the kitchen doorway, smashing into one of the Elder's chests and blowing him off of his feet. He vanished with a display of brilliant white light and an outwards burst of orbs before reappearing several feet behind his original position, brushing at the scorch mark on his shirt. He'd even managed to retain a full can of beer and continued his yelled conversation with his friend as if very little had happened.

Ben flicked his wrists but the demon only staggered backwards, mildly wounded in his left shoulder. Ben formed a fireball of his own and threw it at the demon and it crashed backwards into the cupboard, bringing two shelves worth of crockery to the floor along with the cabinet.

Chris flung a shard of what he vaguely remembered to be his Great-Aunt Peggy's bone china through the demon's heart. It burst outwards as it died; destroying the glass front of the cabinet opposite to the one it had flown into.

"What's going on?" Ben muttered, getting up. A flare of bright white light from the foyer caught their attention, and Chris flung the demon into the wall. It raised its arm and threw an energy ball, which Chris redirected into its chest, vanquishing it.

"I think…" Chris said, thinking on his feet. "I think that because the Elders aren't there to watch over everything anymore-"

"-the demons are coming out in force," Ben finished for him. "For the Nexus, or the Charmed Ones, or the Nexus and the Charmed Ones. Or the Book of Shadows-" He paused. "You really do have a lot of things in your house that are coveted by evil, don't you?"

"Well, isn't this just great? And we're stuck here protecting the Elders. When I can barely hear myself THINK!" As he yelled the last word, practically tearing his throat out a beer bottle dropped to the floor and shattered, seeping through the rug as its owner burst outwards into orbs.

This demon was standing on the half landing, but before Ben could blow it up a fireball knocked him over the back of the couch, onto the laps of three Elders sitting there who were sitting on the piece of furniture, chanting at their friend who was trying to down an entire six-pack at once.

"Hey, man! That looked like it hurt!" One of them said, pausing in his cheering to wave a glowing hand in Ben's direction. Ben got up off of the floor and tossed a disc of ice in the demon's direction, decapitating it in revenge for the fireball. Its head and body disappeared into flames separately, the mouth still screaming as it blazed down to the Wasteland.

"Well, at least the _Elders_ can't get hurt," Ben said, fake cheery as he rejoined Chris at the foot of the stairs. "Well, not unless a-"

"DON'T SAY IT!" Chris yelled, cutting Ben off. "We're jinxed enough as it is…"

Unfortunately it appeared that Ben had already set the jinx in motion and in a cascade of dark orbs a darklighter appeared in the doorway to the sunroom and unleashed an arrow. All of the Elders in the path collectively orbed out, apparently momentarily blinding the darklighter just as Chris twisted his upper body left to avoid being skewered. It stuck, quivering in the banister as the Elders reappeared and the darklighter placed his hands over his eyes, moaning.

Neither of the witches could get a clear shot with the Elders in the way, so Ben wrenched the arrow from the wood, made an astral copy of it and sent it across the room. It flared red for a second before Chris pushed it into the darklighter's back with a flick of two fingers.

"I don't know about you, but I can't keep doing this all night." Ben said, reducing the arrow to ashes and a blob of molten metal in his hand.

"No," Chris agreed, "me neither."

_**Learning to Tango**_

"If we could just find Leo then we could reverse the spell…" Ben said, watching Chris pace as he looked through the Book of Shadows. "And there's nothing in here." The heavy tome thudded shut.

They had managed to find a small corner of the sunroom to call their own, and were keeping an eye on the Elders as they looked for a solution to the mess. It was just getting worse and worse as more and more alcohol was consumed. Several of Piper's vases lay in pieces, and the floor was sticky with remnants of something only the Gods could identify.

A blast and the sound of violently scattering orbs snapped Chris's attention through the dining room and towards the kitchen, where there was some kind of commotion going on. Chris rolled his eyes wearily and trudged off to the back of the house, leaving Ben and his headache alone. The ground beneath him was still shaking from the music and it went in perfect sync with the pounding between his eyes.

His memory flicked to a page in the small black book upstairs that had started all of this and, reluctant as he was to try something from there again, he had to do _something_ because the neighbours would be complaining soon…

"No! Put that down!" Ben jumped to his feet, only just in time to catch the Book as it slid off of his lap. Three Elders were playing Frisbee with a dinner plate. At Ben's shout, one missed the catch and it shattered on the white wall in a spray of china shards.

Another dinner plate whizzed across the room and Ben vaguely wondered where they were coming from. A swaying Elder dived for it and landed, sprawled, on the couch. There were general shrieks of opposition from the redhead that had wanted to dance with Ben earlier and the Elder whose lap she was sitting on. The plate-catcher laughed, scrambled up and tossed the china disc through the air. It was mercifully caught this time and the couple on the couch continued their make out session relatively undisturbed.

Ben was nauseated. That was just… Wrong. They could both be like three centuries old. It was worse than your parents. Thankfully Chris marched back from the kitchen, sporting a fresh cut on his arm but otherwise unharmed and distracted him.

Chris's lips moved but Ben caught no trace of the speech that came out and he closed his eyes, took a deep breath and said the spell. He could barely hear his own words and he wondered if it would work before muttering:

"_I don't care if I'm being astute,  
Let these people quickly MUTE!"_

He yelled the last word and the effect was almost instantaneous. The floor stopped quaking and the sound of the clock ticking echoed through the Manor. Ben breathed a sigh of relief, watching the Elders carry on as normal, just without the sound to accompany them. He had to put it to the book's author – she knew how to write a spell. Ben could still tell the tempo of the music by the pain in his skull and Chris, sucking the blood from his arm looked haggard.

"What are we going to do?" Ben asked, rubbing his temples. It did little to alleviate the pain building there but it did help him think somewhat.

Chris's arm dropped to his side, a scab already beginning to form over the cut. "I have an idea. LEO!"

The Elder in question appeared in front of them. Chris was about to ask a question but found Leo's face smeared with a deep pink lipstick. There were only two buttons done up on his shirt, which was wrinkled. Leo said something that didn't come out because of the spell and Ben forced his aching brain to come up with another two-liner.

"_I let their noises go and wander,  
Restore a voice to this Elder."_

"What the hell kind of spell was that? It barely rhymed!"

"Well, you try coming up with spells all night," Ben shot back, irritated. "I don't see you casting any."

"Hey! C'mon now, don't argue! This is a party!"

"So you keep saying," Ben said sourly. "Just stand still for a minute, okay? That's all I ask."

"WHAT is going on here?"

"Uh-oh."

Paige was dodging Elders as she strode across the sunroom to the corner where Ben and Chris were standing. Leo began to slowly edge his way towards the dining room.

"This stinks of backfired spell, just so you know."

"Spell?" Ben tried weakly.

"Don't play dumb with me. I've played dumb too many times to be fooled by someone else playing dumb. Did that make sense?" She got two blank looks in return but ploughed on. "So, what happened?"

_**Learning to Tango**_

"Okay. Well the club doesn't close for another hour. Piper will be there afterwards anyway, so we're okay there. As long as we reverse the spell and clean the mess up, she'll never know."

They were having a conference around the kitchen table. Leo had tried to get up twice, but Paige had managed to scare him into sitting back down.

"So, you've got a spell to turn them all back, right? Then fire away."

"_Return the magic I cast here,  
And let this spell disappear."_

Immediately the stereo leapt back into life and Paige jumped at the sudden blare of music from the other side of the house. She pushed herself up from the kitchen chair and curiously pushed her way through the kitchen door. Leo saw his chance to escape and was out of the door just seconds after Paige, followed by Ben and Chris.

All over the Manor there were Elders waking up as if from a trance, looking strangely at the bottles of alcohol in their hands. The couple making out on the couch sprang apart, horrified and the Elder on the dining room table started shrieking and had to be helped down, pulling her skirt down in a vain attempt to cover her legs. The music cut out and more Elders started murmuring groggily, looking down at the street clothes they were sporting.

There was a resounding slap from the alcove opposite the living room and a female Elder ran out, buttoning her top. A male Elder fell out, struggling to pull up his jeans.

The sight would have been comical if the witches hadn't been so worried about the consequences. They stood in the dining room doorway, words failing them.

"What. Happened. Here?" The voice behind them was vibrating with fury, and when the three of them turned there was an Elder there, his eyes blazing with anger, demanding an explanation.

"Uh…"

"Well… Um…"

"Party, dude!" Leo said, clapping him on the shoulder. "We were just having a party. Are you leaving already?"

"Remove your hand."

Leo shoved both of his hands in the back pockets of his jeans, shrugging uncaringly. "Fine, whatever you want, man. I guess it's up to me to have the fun around here." He grabbed a bottle from the table and took a swig, the Jack Daniels burning in his throat. He drained the bottle, clutching the table for support. He tried to put the bottle down but it fell on its side and rolled off the table, shattering on the rug. "What's wrong with you all?" Leo said, finishing off a two-thirds empty can of beer. "You not having fun anymore?"

"I'm going to take a wild guess and say that some kind of demon has got to Leo, who then spread the curse to the rest of us. We'll trust in the Power of Three to fix this, I think."

At the end of the foyer in front of the doors a demon shimmered in, throwing an energy ball at one of the Elders. The Elder burst in a bright spray of lights and then reappeared, sagging against the wall. Groaning, he orbed out. Other began to follow suit as Paige vanquished the demon with one of its own energy balls, and soon only what seemed to be one of the head Elders was left.

"Fix this," he hissed, gesturing towards Leo who seemed to be determined to empty every container full of alcohol in the room before orbing out as well.

"I don't get it," Ben said. "Why did the spell work on everyone but Leo? Seeing as Leo was the start of it all, if it worked on the rest of them, why didn't it work on him?"

"Maybe… maybe it's because he was the start of it." Paige said, narrowing her eyes as she thought.

"Huh?" The reply was collective, and she suppressed a smile.

"Well, I mean, Leo got the full blast of the spell, right? And why would you _want_ to go back to being an uptight adult with a job after being a carefree teenager at a party?"

"So what you're saying is that Leo might not _want_ to go back?"

"Bingo. Give that witch a coconut."

Chris groaned as Leo fell over with a thump face first onto the floor.

"I'm okay!" Came the slurred reassurance before a hand reached for a bottle left by the couch.

"You never know. Maybe Piper won't notice?" Paige said, with a small, hopeful shrug.

_**Learning to Tango**_

"THEY DID **WHAT?"**

"Okay, calm down. It's just a little backfire, everything will be fine-"

"Paige, they turned the Manor into a _frat party_ for God's sake! And they've turned my husband into a teenager. How will everything be _fine?"_

"Don't get stressed, you'll wrap your car around a pole." She took the cordless to the doorway between the dining room and the sunroom, leaning against the doorframe and watching as Chris and Ben tried every trick they knew to reverse Leo's condition. It didn't look like anything was working, because Leo was still smiling goofily, clutching a bottle of beer by the neck.

"Oh, I'll do more than that. I'll wrap by hands around their **necks."**

"Uh-huh," Paige replied dryly. "And when was the last time you had to deal with a little backfire of your own?" She smiled as a slightly hissing silence reigned on the line.

"Well- That's not the point, Paige. The point is that magic is not a toy, and-" her voice broke up in a burst of static.

"Hello?"

"I'll be - soon. Tell them to - afraid. Very -" And then the line went dead.

Paige rolled her eyes and put the phone on the table behind her, pulling a face as it crunched into the crumbs of some scattered chips. Ew. She'd have to put that to her ear. She walked into the sunroom and saw her nephew and his friend slump backwards in defeat. "Nothing?" She asked.

"Nada. I don't think we're gonna be able to reverse this until Leo wants it to be."

"I don't want NOTHING!" Leo yelled, punching the air triumphantly and slopping beer all over himself.

"Good for you," Ben said, fake cheery as Leo missed his mouth, pouring the beer into his cheek.

"Another empty." He tried to get up but rolled over and fell to the floor. He started laughing uncontrollably. "I fell down… BUT I GET UP AGAIN! YOU AIN'T EVER GONNA KEEP ME DOWN, CUZ I GET KNOCKED DOWN-"

"Chris?"

Chris didn't need anymore prompting and flicked a hand in Leo's direction, freezing him in place. Again. There had to be a limit to how many times you could do that before someone got immune.

"Oh, a message from your mother," Paige said. "'Be afraid, very afraid.'"

"She is actually gonna kill us." Chris moaned, putting his head in his hands.

"Don't sweat," Paige said. "She'll probably maim you at least a little first."

As it turned out, Piper was in too much shock to do any maiming whatsoever. She walked through the door and tossed her keys onto the table in the foyer, only to find that it was gone. It only went downhill from there. Everywhere she went she found broken glass, spilled liquids, stained rugs and upholstery, cigarettes extinguished in the sunroom's plant pots, torn cushions, upended furniture and Sharpie signatures all over the walls. _'Cecilia 4 Joseph' _and _'Jim woz 'ere' _and _'I luv ?' _being some of her favourites.

She went through the Manor, taking stock of the mess. She didn't even shout when she saw Aunt Peggy's crockery in ruins, or when she found that they had emptied the icemaker all over the floor. She developed an eye twitch when she found a crude lipstick doodle on the bathroom mirror but still didn't yell until she found the pair of discarded boxers hanging from the chandelier that pushed her right over the edge.

"WHAT THE HELL DID YOU DO TO MY HOUSE?" She exploded, breathing hard. She flexed her fingers by her sides, itching to blow something to pieces.

"Piper, we're really sorry." She turned on Ben as he apologized but Leo lurched out of the sunroom and moved to hug her, falling on top of her and nearly knocking them both to the floor and saving Ben's skin.

"Piper… I love you… I'm so sorry I went away…" His tears were soaking into her shirt and she looked momentarily sickened, trying her best to guide his dead weight over to the couch before her knees gave out. His sobs turned into noisy hiccoughs, his words turned too slurred to comprehend.

"Ssh…" Piper comforted gently as they collapsed on the couch. "It'll be… okay…" He threw herself on her, sobbing into her chest and she patted him on the back, suddenly awkward with her husband of three years. She shot death glares at Ben and Chris and even Paige to hide her emotions and as Leo's cries quietened it became clear he'd fallen asleep. She struggled out from under his weight and he flopped to the couch. She tenderly arranged the least damp cushion under his head and then stood up. "I'm… I'm going upstairs for a while…" she said, absently gliding towards the upper floor.

She made her bed in a daze, oblivious to the fact that she had performed that very chore this morning and that someone must have been lying on it to have rumpled it so, and moved around the room tidying obsessively. Leo had said he loved her, and that he was sorry for leaving her…

Without registering the mess on the floor and wondering how it got there, she began to tidy up, folding a cream sweater and placing balled socks in the drawer. She hesitated before opening a drawer in the bottom of the chest but then slid it open, pulling out a red and black plaid shirt and inhaling the scent.

It smelled of Leo.

_**Learning to Tango**_

**Yeah. That end of the self-pity pool sucked. Heh. Let's never go there again. God, I was awful. So sorry about that everyone, and thanks for all of your shiny reviews. Heh.**

**Simone1- Heh. Thank you!**

**minimonkey89- Aw, thanks. That was just what I needed to hear when I was at the 'Everything sucks' stage. Thanks for reviewing.**

**Stony Angel- YAY! You came back. Well, you didn't go anywhere. But still. I'm a little nuts tonight, go figure. Thanks for reviewing, hun. And thanks for saying you can't wait. Good luck with your bunny as well, by the way.**

**M J Rosemary- HEH. Thank you. I'm glad I'm doing my bit to keep you in this fandom. It would be a shame to lose you! Thanks for your review.**

**Chattypandagurl- Nope. Heh, that's why I like 'em. Hopefully there was an insight in this chapter to the reasoning, though.**

**ilovedrew88- Yes, sleeping is good. Needless to say, I won't be inflicting that on myself for at least another month. Heh. Thank you for reviewing (again! You're really attached, aren't you? Sorry about that. Not so lucky, really) and I'll just go down here now, because there's some white space to fill… Bye…**

**mizunderstood writer- That disappeared surprisingly quickly, actually. I'm gonna have one a month until I get my final exams out of the way. Gah. Save me. Thank you for reviewing. I should say that too…**

**As Always- I think he was scared… Yeah. Yelling is bad. Well, for him anyway. And for me, I guess, because it made me all awakeful. And that's not a word. Oh well, let's just skim past that please… Dum dee dum… Heh. Yeah… Did I say thanks? Cuz this is what this bit is meant to be for…**


	11. Chapter 11

"Okay, watch your step." Piper felt her knees buckling for the second time that night and the dead weight in her arms was suddenly slipping. There was a succession of loud thumps and a grunt as it fell to the floor and she winced and pushed hair out of her face. "Oops! Chris, get the light will you?"

Chris crossed the room and flipped the light on, throwing the Manor's master bedroom into stark relief. Leo was lying curled up on the rug, apparently quite content with spending the night there. Piper was glad that she had had Chris orb them in here. Half-carrying her practically unconscious husband up the stairs would not have been fun at all.

The strand of hair that she had not so long ago pushed out of the way flopped back into her face. Ever since she'd had it cut she'd been annoyed with it. That stupid apprentice had managed to cut this one tendril short so it never quite reached into her ponytail. She blew it out as she sighed and then raked it behind her ear, knowing that any position it was put into it would fall down soon. She never should have paid full price _and_ tipped for a cut like this.

She put her hands on her hips, hovering uncertainly over her inebriated husband. How was she going to do this? She pursed her lips as Leo murmured in his sleep and curled up tighter. "You couldn't have orbed him onto the bed?" She demanded of Chris, who was still standing by the door with his hands shoved guiltily in his back pockets. He only shrugged a mute reply, which did little to help Piper put Leo to bed.

She looked at him and it took a while for the witch-whitelighter to catch on but eventually he removed his hands from his pockets and placed them in front of him, palms to the ceiling and his father levitated off of the ground and up to the height of the bed. He dumped the Elder rather unceremoniously on the mattress – which squeaked in protest – and Piper glared at him disapprovingly. He pouted and shoved his hands in his pockets again.

"I suggest you leave now before you see something you don't want to," Piper suggested, unlacing one of Leo's shoes and placing it beside the bed. She put the other one next to it so he could step into them in the morning and then set to work on his socks, pulling them off of his feet and balling them up, throwing them at the laundry hamper in the corner. Leo looked so peaceful when he was asleep, she realized. Even if it was a drugged, unnatural one caused by alcohol.

She smoothed hair back from his forehead and started unbuttoning his shirt, not even hearing Chris cotton on to the fact that she was undressing his dad and close the door behind him. She sat on the bad and the mattress dipped, causing Leo to stir.

His lips parted and he sucked in a deep breath of air, bleary and unfocused eyes coming into view as his lashes fluttered. She paused, waiting for him to go back to sleep but he sat up suddenly and she was forced to jerk her head backwards to stop herself getting head butted.

"Piper…" Leo said, screwing his eyes shut for a while. When he opened them he looked down at his bare chest and grinned wickedly at her. "Y'know, y'didn't have to wait 'til I was 'sleep. You could have jus' asked…"

"What?" She paused with the question still on her lips as she realized what he meant.

"Oh, no, Leo! I was- You've gotta sleep."

"Mmm…" he replied, and the deep sound made his chest vibrate. She pulled her hand back, not realizing that she had left it there when she finished undoing his last button. He took her hand back, moving with startling speed for someone so drunk and kissed the fingertips, smiling impishly at her.

"Leo, this is wrong…" she was taking advantage of him in a way she would never, ever like to be taken advantage of. She tried to pull her hand away again but Leo's strong hand held it there. It had been so long since the bed had felt full, so long since there was a comforting bulk to snuggle next to at night… The bed always felt cold now as well.

A king-sized mattress was made for two people, and Piper could never hope to warm the entire expanse of sheets. She gave a slight shriek, which she muffled quickly as Leo pulled her forwards and kissed her. She stiffened at first in shock and her first instinct was to pull away, but soon all she could do was respond because they _were_ married and this _was_ her husband and the love of her whole damn life and he had left her and she had missed him _so much…_

He tasted of beer and perhaps the hint of a cigarette, but he was every inch the man that she had married and as he raised his hips into the air to shuck off his jeans she found herself leaning into the kiss, deepening it as longing and lust took over her body. Just… just screw moral decency and moral codes and his fingers were tickling her spine as he reached up her shirt…

_**Learning to Tango**_

Moonlight striped across the bed, starkly accentuating Leo's sleeping bulk. The sheets moved as he breathed and Piper propped herself up on her elbow, staring sadly at him. Tonight had been a mistake. It would just make her want him all the more, when he should be with the Elders. She sighed, pulling the covers up tighter around her. It'd be okay. Somehow everything would work out. It always did for them. She led back down on her pillow, staring at the green numbers on her alarm clock. _3:06. _The harsh neon green could be seen as spots when she closed her eyes, but soon she wasn't awake to see them.

She curled up, drawing her legs tighter to her stomach in a protective manner, her body already recognizing the tiny miracle growing inside her womb.

_**Learning to Tango**_

Leo squeezed his eyes shut at the sudden onslaught of light. And this was San Francisco. Mornings were foggy and murky and yet there was still far too much light. His head pounded and he managed to crack one eye open to look at Piper's alarm clock. It was 5:27. Piper would be getting up in about forty-five minutes. He looked at her sleeping form, curled up and with her hair splayed across the pillow. He reached out to stroke her cheek but then pulled it back. He'd done enough damage here already.

That… that had probably just made Piper more confused, and he could already hear the Elders jingling way too loudly in his head, signalling that he had to go again. It wasn't fair to keep putting her through this… The Elders jingled again. That was probably what had woken him up. Better than any damn alarm clock…

He quietly and gently sat up, pinching the bridge of his nose. He remembered last night. Which was surprising, because he knew he had had enough alcohol to down at lest three bull elephants. Perhaps the remembering was part of the spell. He'd felt it lift last night when he realized that he was being unfair to Piper. It had dissipated, just like that, when he realized he was hurting his sort-of wife just by being here.

He swung his legs out of bed, finding himself naked. A blush raced up his neck and into his face even though the room's only other occupant was fast asleep and summoned his Elder robes to him in a flurry of orbs. He rubbed the back of his neck and closed his eyes again, waiting for the room to stop spinning and his stomach to stop churning… He summoned his orbing power but the bright lights made him cry out in unexpected pain. He reappeared and waved a hand at Piper – who had just started to stir – calming her back into sleep.

As he walked towards the bathroom he was nearly floored by his own jeans. Well at least he knew where some of his clothes had gone… The door creaked open and the overhead light made him hiss in pain but he reached into the bathroom cabinet and found a bottle of Aspirin. He filled the glass by the sink and took four. It was kind of hard to overdose when you were dead, he reasoned, replacing the bottle and making sure the childproof cap had clicked. Besides, the Elders couldn't heal self-inflicted wounds. But perhaps they'd make an exception, as it was very likely that they were all feeling the same…

He emptied the rest of the glass down the sink, watching the water swirl as it gurgled its way down the plughole. The sink looked like it was going to get blocked soon. He held a healing hand over the waste pipe and the water slipped away smoother. Satisfied, he disappeared into a cloud of orbs as the drain swallowed the last few drops of water.

_**Learning to Tango**_

Piper murmured and rolled over, looking at her alarm clock. It was ten past six. Groaning at her internal clock she turned to look back at Leo, only to find his side of the bed empty. She tested the sheets with her hands, running them over the cotton. But they were cold. Leo was long gone. Perhaps this was for the best. I mean, he had to be an Elder now. He had more responsibilities… So why didn't it feel right inside? She stared at the pillow, still indented where his head had been the night before and with a sudden movement that surprised her, reached out and yanked both ends of the pillow, plumping it and smoothing the surface, smoothing away all evidence of his stay.

She pulled the top sheet from the bed and wrapped it around her. Curious now she got out of bed, her makeshift dress trailing behind her as she walked. She tucked it in at the top so she could move without holding it and reached the full-length mirror, modelling it slightly, but with none of the lustre she had used yesterday at the mall with her sisters and Bridget. Smiling slightly at her complete inability to make a sheet look even remotely alluring she walked off towards the bathroom to get ready for the day.

Forty minutes later she emerged bright and shining, taking a pleasure that was alien to her in the fact that she had just used a good portion of the hot water. Probably more than her share. But who cared? Just this one, who really cared? She pulled on her kimono over her silk pyjamas and shoved her feet into her slippers. The radio on her clock was playing Delta Goodrem's _Lost Without You._

Why was the world so intent on reminding her that Leo was gone? She glared at the green numbers and they glared back, even switching from 06:53 to 06:54. The cheek of it! She flicked her wrists and accelerated the particles within it and the song was lost in the clock's dying wail.

Hm. She'd have to polish that scorch mark out. Feeling light-hearted as if she'd just vanquished a worthy adversary she opened the door and headed for the stairs. Her eyes immediately came to rest on a shattered picture frame, and she remembered the mess that awaited her downstairs. She rubbed her eyes and the lowered her hands, glaring at the door across the hall.

_**Learning to Tango**_

The door burst opened and Ben's body immediately jolted into action. His brain was several minutes behind but that didn't stop him readying a fireball in his hand and throwing it at the source of the noise. When you were rudely awoken in the future it was never a good thing. Unless it was Bridget awakening you rudely. Well, then again, that wasn't a good thing but it was nothing to throw a fireball at.

An invisible, familiar wave passed over the room. Someone had stopped all of the molecules in the vicinity. Forcing his eyes open he saw Chris ready for action as well, his body tensed and his fist curled around the hilt of an athame. Ben's fireball was suspended in midair between the daybed Ben was sleeping on and the doorway where Piper was standing, her hands were still raised and the expression of fear still on her face.

Gradually she was able to form words. "And I thought Paige was grouchy in the mornings."

"Sorry," Ben said sheepishly, extinguishing the fireball, "force of habit."

"Hm," was all the response he got from Piper, and he sat up straighter in the bed as the wrenched the curtains open. Light spilled into the room. The sun was already starting to burn the fog off and Ben's squinted, seeing red spots dance before his eyes.

"Mom?" Chris asked, sitting up as well and using a hand to shield his face from the light. "It's-" he screwed his eyes shut and then forced then open, "like seven AM."

"Exactly. The early birds clean up the house after the consequences of the spell they screwed up yesterday."

"Okay. We get it," Chris grouched, rubbing his eyes. As Piper sailed towards the door he pushed the comforter off of him, letting air rife with the chill of morning into his bed.

_**Learning to Tango**_

Bridget squirmed to get comfortable against the pillows in her back. She found a vaguely comfy position and flipped channels with the remote. Chris and Ben were buzzing around her with two black garbage bags, tossing cans and bottles into them. She smirked to herself as she reached for her tall glass of caffeine free iced tea next to her and took a sip through the long straw. Oh, the Manor was so definitely much better than Magic School. She was glad that Piper had had Chris orb her here, because 'being cooped up in a place like that was no good for a woman with child.' Ha. With child. That sounded so… natural and hearth and home-y. Nope, she had decided that the term she was going to use for her current status was knocked up.

So now she was here, in the airy sunroom of the Manor. One set of French windows behind her was propped open with a fern, and she relished the cool breeze blowing in through the window, dispelling the sultry heat that so much glass brought.

She sucked pensively on the ice cubes dry as Oprah blabbered to some woman who thought she had problems. Bridget snorted. Go on a talk show when you had _real_ problems, not when you found out that your boyfriend was cheating on you with your daughter. And besides, the daughter was far more attractive. And younger. And hadn't stretched her face too tight with too much Botox and left the skin looking scrawny on her neck. Maybe she'd tune in later when the incest did start. Families were so screwed up.

She twisted her head over the back of the couch to yell vaguely in the direction where she'd last seen Chris. "Hey, what about naming the kid Oprah? I mean, she'll be smart, and rich, and famous and help lots of people."

"I thought the baby was a he?" Ben questioned, poking his head around the door.

Bridget stared at him stony faced. "Oh, because a woman couldn't wield the power of all evil, is that it? We must be the inferior gender. Of course, because I'd like to see guys go through childbirth." she paused. "Oh, and I want lots and lots of medicine. None of this breathing crap, got it?"

"Oprah? Is she the one that can't hear people at the back or something. There was like this big thing about it when she got sued?" Chris licked his thumb and scrubbed at a Sharpie scrawl, cursing the person who had left the marker in reach. It didn't budge. "Why do permanent markers have to be so permanent?" he groused.

"And she's not that old in this time. She can still hear the people at the back, thank you very much. That woman is amazing." She paused as Chris gave in trying to get the pen off the white wall. "Ooh, we could name the midget Sharpie!" she said, suddenly enthused.

"Are you _trying_ to give this kid a complex?" Ben asked, dumping a bottle from the top of the TV into his bag.

"I have several, and I turned out just fine," Bridget deadpanned back before turning back towards the TV.

"I don't like Oprah," Chris said. "She's so…" he struggled for a diplomatic way to put his objections. He couldn't tell Bridget that Oprah was boring. She loved the show, and might bite him.

Bridget stabbed the up button on the remote with her thumb and Jerry Springer graced the screen. Chris was relieved. It meant that she probably wouldn't be asking about Oprah anymore.

Bridget smiled at the set. Ah, some real television. Not an episode went by without someone hitting someone with a chair. She settled back into the cushions once again, debating whether to grab one of the boys and ask for a refill. Ben passed in front of the screen and she yanked one of the pillows from behind her head and threw it at him.

He snatched it from the air and grinned at her, moving out of the way of the TV long enough to see that Jerry had moved into his final thought. Dammit, she'd missed all of the punch-ups.

Ben threw the cushion back at her, his garbage bag clinking. "You're getting slow, you know that? Must be all that extra weight."

"Oh yeah?" Bridget challenged, looking him up and down. Ben smirked at her as she struggled to get herself out of the mountain of cushions she had created and then laughed when she flopped back into them. "Just you wait!" she threatened, picking up the remote again and flipping the channel. "Just you wait."

"What for?"

"You'll see."

"You're stalling because you can't get up, aren't you?"

Bridget stretched languidly. "Yup."

"Thought so."

"Can," Bridget said, gesturing towards the sideboard where a can was half-hidden behind picture frames.

"Nope," Ben said, gesturing to his clinking bag. "I've got the bottles. We're not only cleaning up, we're separating the trash and recycling too."

"CHRIS!" Bridget hollered.

"I'm right here," he replied patiently. When he moved, Bridget noted, his sack made light, metallic clanking.

"Good. Can on the cabinet."

Chris rolled his eyes and tossed the offending article into his bag, just as Piper walked in through the dining room from the kitchen, disconnecting the cordless phone with a beep.

"That was the Police Station," she said, watching as Ben and Chris both tensed nervously. With all that had been going on, they had practically forgotten that they were out on bail. Ben wormed his finger through the plastic of the bag in his hand, poking it through the other side. Piper kept them in suspense as long as she could bear it; enjoying the effect it had on them.

They _had_ tried to kill her this morning, after all. Unintentionally, sure, but they had still tried. Chris was searching her face, trying to determine an answer in her eyes. "And you're off the hook."

The collective sigh of relief in the room nearly overwhelmed her as the tension in the air raced past her for an exit. Chris grinned, his life suddenly so much more ameliorated than five minutes ago. That was one less thing to worry about.

Ben let out a shaky breath, grinning from ear to ear. Check off one dark cloud hanging over his head. Now, if he could just get rid of the other fifty or so before they all banded together and struck him dead with a lightning bolt, he'd be just perfect.

"It turns out that the Captain thought that Sheridan's case was a load of fabrications based of circumstantial evidence."

"Basically, he thought it was a load of crap," Bridget translated airily; reaching for her glass before remembering that it was empty.

"Yeah, thanks for that," Ben returned sarcastically.

"No problem. I know you have a problem with big words."

"So," Piper said, sitting down on the couch, "without that threat looming over you, there's room to add one of my own, right?"

She was chirping, Chris noticed. That was never good. She only chirped when she was self-satisfied – namely giving out punishments. "Uh… Yeah, in a minute Mom…" Maybe he could put her off for a while. Cleaning up the stupid house after the stupid Elders trashed it was definetly punishment enough?

He turned his back on her as he walked purposefully out of the doorway, just waiting for her wrath to befall him. He chewed his lower lip, waiting for the explosion.

"Christopher Perry Halliwell!" His shoulders slumped in defeat at his full name and he turned to face her. She was glaring. Crap. People said that Piper was the place he had got his glare from, but he didn't believe it. He could never look that scary.

"Yeah?" He tried casual. There had to be some kind of way to disarm her. He tried innocent. Perhaps that would do it. There was nothing he could think of that worked on her in the future. Except tears, and they had done more harm that good once he'd reached double figures, because Wyatt had just called him pathetic.

"Ha. No, see, that innocent look is the trick Phoebe used to pull all of the time. Not gonna work, mister."

He rolled his eyes, another turn blocked. His mother had truly seen it _all_. There was just no getting round her.

"Anyway, did I teach you to walk away from me when I'm talking to you?" Piper demanded, her anger flaring again. "I know I most certainly did _not._ So come and stand here while I talk to you, _got it_?"

Uh-oh. This was what should have come out last night, before Leo had thrown himself on her and been all-pitiful. He had just delayed the inevitable. He walked back towards the sunroom, leaning on the doorframe.

"Okay. Here goes. You came here to save your little brother, yeah? Well, big brother. But right now, he's littler than you. Anyway, you didn't come here to argue with your father or throw parties or get drunk or anything like that. So dammit you will stay in this house and figure out how to save your future and what you're going to do when all the demons try to attack us when your _baby_ is born!" She nodded at Chris's suitably shocked expression and stormed out in the direction of the kitchen. "Now, I'm going to P3. If this place isn't spotless when I get back, so help me…"

A couple of seconds of stunned silence hung in the air after she left. "Did… did she just ground me?" Chris asked faintly, disbelieving. Wasn't he a little old to be grounded? And this meant no more trips to the Underworld, which were pretty much essential for determining who was after Wyatt.

"Yes. You're Mom is one badass witch. Do you think she'll adopt me?" Bridget asked, staring in admiration at the kitchen.

Chris looked to Ben for support, but found the other witch grinning smugly.

"Ha."

"Hey, you're meant to be my best friend!" Chris said, dropping his bag full of cans.

"Yeah…" he managed the remorseful act for all of about two seconds before grinning again. "Ha."

Chris was punching Ben in the shoulder in a vain effort to gain some kind of support when Piper came back in, dressed in her jacket and with her purse slung over her shoulder.

"And while I'm in Mom mode? Ben, what I just said goes for you too, got it?"

"What!" Ben howled as Chris stopped punching him and started laughing instead. "You're not my mom!"

"Heh. Nice observation," Bridget muttered from the couch. She'd taken on Ben's abandoned smugness, and was smiling as she watched someone profess their undying love on TV.

"No, but your mom doesn't know you exist yet, so I'm the next best thing. And besides, if I don't extend it to you, you'll only help him come up with some crazy escape plan." She moved into the parlour, grabbing her keys from the foyer table. "And look after Bridget!" She called. "Lord knows is hard enough being pregnant. And Bridget? Make sure they do as they're told. I gotta run; we're getting a beer delivery today. Tell Phoebe or Paige that they can order out for dinner, got it? And NO MAGIC!"

Piper had left the Manor and was reversing her SUV when Ben came out of his astonishment enough to speak. "What… what just happened?"

"You got busted," Bridget told them in a singsong voice. She reached for her glass and rattled the ice cubes at them peremptorily. "Any chance of a drink around here?"

_**Learning to Tango**_

The Manor got about seven hundred channels, and Bridget was thoroughly bored with all of them. She finally clicked the TV off, trying to remember when it was that TVs came with voice command as standard. She had tried yelling at this one at first, then remembered that she was in the backwards past.

Phoebe had walked through the Manor's front doors bleary-eyed and not even noticing the state the place was in about five hours ago, not long after Piper had left, in fact. She had finally got her column to the editor and she had practically fallen asleep on the stairs. Eventually, the middle sister had managed to make it to her room, and Bridget was sure that she was still passed out on her bed.

Paige wasn't home yet, but then if the witch-whitelighter _had_ come home, then she would have orbed straight onto her bed without bothering with the front door or tricky stairs, so Bridget would never know unless _she_ wanted to brave the tricky stairs, and she didn't.

Yawning, she decided to turn to her other form of entertainment. "BEN!"

He slouched in tiredly from the direction of the living room. "What now?"

Ah. There was the entertainment. She smiled to herself, realizing that she was doing a lot more smiling than normal. It was actually quite a workout, she decided. She'd have to do it more often when she got to the future. Being in charge was fun.

"You missed a spot on the floor. Clean it up, it's bugging me. Sitting there, all sticky and nasty…" She wrinkled her nose at it.

"Where?" Ben demanded, looking in the direction she was. The floor looked perfectly clean. He should know – not so long ago he'd been scrubbing the tiles.

"You can't see it unless you're down here. It's a trick of the light."

"Uh. Huh."

"I mean it!" Bridget said indignantly, grabbing his sleeve and yanking him down with enough strength to make his knees buckle.

"Ow! I'm glad to see that your pregnancy hasn't affected your strength at least… Your brain, yes, your strength, apparently not so much. But do you _have_ to do that? Jeez, I'm going to need new knees before I'm thirty."

She stabbed her finger at the sticky spot and his eyes followed it, where a slightly dark patch was gleaming glutinously by the side of one of the armchairs.

"How did I miss that?" Ben asked, groaning in defeat and a little pain as he got back to his feet. Bruised kneecaps. Not fun.

"You put your bucket on it," Bridget informed him, adding, "Dumbass."

"Well, it was nice of you to notify me before; you know when I was actually cleaning the floor."

Bridget smiled sweetly. "Heh. Oops."

Ben rolled his eyes, sighing. He gave up. The mortal way sucked - it just took way too long. And there was no way he was going to get a bucket and fill it up again, especially as it involved boiling the kettle because this house never had enough hot water. "_Let the object of-"_

"Uh, uh, uh. No magic, remember? Go get your bucket."

Ben looked her up and down, and then smiled at her, sickly sweet. Bridget shifted against the cushions and narrowed her eyes at him, trying to work out what he was going to do. She so knew that smile. That was the smile Ben used when he had the trump card.

"Ben…" she said, drawing out his name warningly. He smiled wider.

"_I don't care if I'm being astute,_

_Let Bridget quickly mute."_

Ben stepped back to admire his handiwork, folding his arms across his chest and sitting in the armchair next to the spill. It was the first time he'd sat down all day, and he let out an audible sigh, grinning as Bridget mouthed obscenities at him. Once again paying silent homage to whichever Halliwell had written the spell he picked his nails as she struggled to get up, but she was even more confined to the couch than she was this morning and every time she tried to brace herself against the cushions she just fell backwards into them again. They were her downfall, apparently, working with her slight bump to prevent her from rising.

Bridget snatched the remote from its resting place and threw it angrily at his head. It was dead on course when it suddenly stopped in midair. It was hovering, bobbing up and down slightly as if it were floating on choppy water.

"Sorry, Bridget. The remote has metal in it."

She glared at him, and he knew that if she was able to get up, he would be so dead right now. The remote was drifting lazily towards his hand when Chris's voice in the doorway made him jump. The remote clattered to the floor and the batteries sprang out, rolling separate ways across the floor.

"What's going on?"

"Bridget lost her voice," Ben replied smoothly, as Bridget gesticulated wildly in vain in an angry charade, trying to get Chris to understand her. Unfortunately for Ben, he did.

"You mean _you_ lost Bridget's voice?"

Ben shrugged. "Potayto Potahto."

"Why can't she get up?" Chris said worriedly, watching Bridget again attempt to get up from the midst of the cushion stack.

"She made herself too comfortable," Ben supplied. "I mean, she's not even that fat yet, so it can't be the baby's fault…" He blinked as Bridget made a scurrilous hand gesture, looking sanguinary at him. He fought the urge to gulp. "All that? Aimed at poor little me?" He could joke, but in truth it kind of scared him. He was just thankful she was confined to the couch…

Suddenly Bridget dissolved into a flurry of blue and white orbs. The cushions looked almost relieved as they were able to spring malleably back to their former shape. The indent of Bridget still lingered, however, as she reappeared next to Ben and began attacking him mercilessly with one of the cushions from the heap, trying her best to yell herself hoarse. She stopped suddenly and dropped the pillow, pressing her hand to her stomach and smiling serenely.

"Bridget?" Chris asked, taking her hands and looking into her eyes. She scowled at Ben, who was just removing his arms from his head, and snatched Chris's hand, pressing it against her stomach.

"It's moving…" Chris said, smiling goofily. Ben rolled his eyes. "It's like… moving…"

"Yes, Chris. We established that. And anyway, I thought you didn't _do_ kids?"

Chris was smiling ear to ear, and Ben suddenly didn't want to burst his friend's bubble. So he sat there while Chris waited for another movement and got none, and until Bridget pulled away from Chris impatiently and started beating Ben half-senseless with the cushion again.

He finally gave in, his voice muffled by his arms. "Okay! Okay!

"_Reverse the spell I cast here,_

_And let the magic disappear."_

He timidly lowered his arms, looking at Bridget from between them as he let them fall. Bridget waited until his hands were touching the chair before hitting him twice more around the head.

"Don't do that! Ever again! Do you hear me!"

Ben gave her a mock salute. "Yes ma'am."

She made an enraged noise and raised the cushion again, but Chris grabbed her arm and orbed her across the room and back to her couch.

"Okay, let's get you sitting back down before you hurt yourself."

"I'm not going to hurt myself!" Bridget said scornfully. "Him, however-" She tried to make her way back across the room, rolling up her sleeves as she did so. Chris took her hand and sat her back down on the couch.

"Okay, well then you're gonna hurt the baby. So be calm, got it? And it'll all work out…"

"It's not going to work out until I get to drop an anvil on _your_ friend's head," Bridget growled darkly. She was slightly placated when Chris retrieved the remote and reassembled it, and then when he flicked the TV on a channel popped up that made her squeal and say, "Oh my God, I _love_ this show!" Very soon, she was watching it intently, all afore mentioned ideas of crushing Ben's skull with a heavy weight forgotten.

Ben smiled at his narrow escape, and Chris pulled him up and out of his chair with a roll of his eyes to get the Manor finished before Piper came home.

_**Learning to Tango**_

Ben had his feet, clad in white socks, up on the couch in the attic, leaning against one of the arms with a spiral-bound notebook resting on his knees. Three pages were flipped over the top and he was currently scribbling on a new page. Chris was sitting in an armchair, his legs draped over the left arm, his back leaning on the right one. He had a similar pad on his knees and was scrawling with a rapidly blunting pencil that was in dire need of sharpening.

The Book of Shadows had been closed and abandoned on its podium, having yielded its few clues already. Now they were trying to find connections between demons, attacks and Wyatt. The house was quiet. Paige and Phoebe had both woken up in high spirits with a surprising amount of energy, and had taken Bridget with them to P3. Piper was working the bar that night, so the silence was kind of oppressing.

"Okay, so what have you got?" Chris asked at last, feeling that he had to do something to break the hush.

"You first."

Chris turned his pad around to show Ben, who tilted his head to one side and squinted in confusion.

"What _is_ that?"

"They're little ladybugs…" Chris said, turning the pad back towards him to finish off an antenna. Doodling had always helped him think. There were ladybugs bordering the page. In the centre of the sheet, there was the word 'Wyatt' encircled. There were lines coming off of it, like rays from a child's drawing of the sun, but all of the lines were empty.

"What are they doing?"

"Marching," Chris said simply, holding his tongue between his teeth to shade in a spot. He looked up from his word and caught his friend's Ben's expression. "To, uh… war…" He cleared his throat and straightened up, flipping the cover over the pad.

"You just added the last bit on in a vain attempt to stay macho, didn't you?"

"Maybe." Chris tore the page off, balled it up and threw it at Ben. It hit the side of his head and bounced to the floor. "Fine. Let's see what you have then."

Ben flipped his pad around. "I got stars," he said.

Chris rolled his eyes, shaking his head. "O…kay… And what's the blob in the middle?"

"A crescent moon."

"Ooh, very poetic."

"Thank you," Ben said, adding another star in a small, unused corner. The pad was a mass of crazy lines and doodles. Chris squinted at them, tilting his head in a vain attempt to make sense of them.

"Wait, does it have _eyes?" _Chris demanded, leaning closer to the drawing, nearly falling off the armchair as he attempted to look at the moon on Ben's page.

"Yeah."

"Why?"

"Because… I don't know. It does, okay? It's a person moon."

"Wait… Actually, more to the point, why does it only have one eye?"

"It's a profile of the moon, okay?" Ben paused, as if realizing what he had just said, and tore the pages off and crumpled them, throwing them down on the floor next to Chris's. "We should really draw guy stuff, you know? Like cars and planes and crap like that."

Chris scratched the back of his neck with the end of the pencil. "Heh. Yeah... You better burn them."

"Good idea. Before Bridget finds out and teases us mercilessly for the rest of out lives." Ben reduced the balled pieces of paper to piles of ash.

"I think she already knows about the doodling," Chris reasoned. "Because, you know, she always doodles like knives and guns and crossbows and stuff like that…"

"You know, considering your kid is half-Bridget, you should decorate its nursery with weapons hanging everywhere. Cuz, you know, it'll like them whether it's a boy or a girl."

"Oh, a telekinetic baby in a room full of weapons. Why can't I see _that_ working? And anyway, I thought you said earlier that you were _against_ giving the kid a complex? Don't you think hanging weapons where normal people would have a mobile will give him a complex?"

"It has Bridget as a mom. It's gonna have like five before it's born."

Chris laughed, smiling into the distance. "I'd say at least six."

In the small lull that followed, Ben put a fingernail in his mouth and chewed on it. He made a disgusted sound and tore the hand away from his mouth. "Why can I still taste cleaning products are turpentine?"

They had had to resort to painting about five layers of paint over the Sharpie signatures, and then to wash the brushes they had used turpentine that made the whole kitchen shimmer with fumes and even hours afterwards, Ben could still taste and smell the tang on his hands.

"The same reason I'm so damn tired?" Chris tried, stretching and trying to get comfortable in the awkward position. "Because we were up at seven and spent all day cleaning up?"

"No, duh?"

Chris rolled his eyes. "And anyway, maybe I nasty taste will stop you biting your nails. How long have you been doing that? Fifteen years? Sixteen?"

Ben glared at him, wanting to chew on a nail defiantly but unable to because of the brush-cleaner. "So? It's not like I'm the only person in the world with a bad habit."

"Heh… Look, I'm going to go to bed, okay?"

"I'll flip you for the bed," Ben said immediately, scrabbling in his pockets for some change only to remember he'd been completely broke since he had got to the past. Everything was in the future.

"You flipped me for the bed last night," Chris reminded him, "and I won."

"So? You used your power."

"And? You used yours!"

"I did not!" Ben returned, looking shocked at the prospect.

"You did, because the lamp on the nightstand was somehow dragged mysteriously towards you."

"Oh, that proves nothing," Ben said dismissively.

"Fine. I'll race you."

"Fine. And NO ORBING!" Ben yelled, breaking into a run out of the attic and down the stairs, Chris hot on his heels and shouting about how Ben could have at least said 'GO!'

The city looked so far away beyond the attic windows, so calm and peaceful. And as another day towards it potential destruction oozed from the streets in the wake up slinking night, the city lights sparkled across the Triquetera on the book, the only symbol of hope for them all.

_**Learning to Tango**_

**Stony Angel**: - Heh. Thank you, hun. Well, hard times are coming up for Chris and Bridget. (And not the damn novel. God, I hate, hate, HATE that book), but the real thing as well. So we are perhaps in the future and it's late and I'm tired and babbling is fun and thank you.

**chattypandagurl**: - Wow! It's a chapter! Heh. It's odd. It's late, and I'm hallucinating about playing checkers with seashells on the ceiling. Yay. Anyways, thank you. Thank you, thank you twinkle toe.

**ilovedrew88**: - They should poke him with a sandwich maker… Mwahahahahahaha. Ha… I have a sandwich maker. It lives in the cupboard and is called George… Hello George… George says he'll bite me if I poke Leo with him. Let's not try that… We'll use the BLENDER! BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA… Yeah… Sleep good, remember that. I forgot to sleep. It's bad. Yes. Thank you. You're a very, very nice person… Maybe you could live in a jar? Of honey… Made from bees… Bzzzzz… Bzz…

**mizunderstood writer**: - Heh, thanks. Thank you shiny twinkle remote control la la la thank you happy me now bye bye.

**As Always**: - We have a rambling creeper that is meant to ramble up the house, but it doesn't it GROWS because it's a plant and it's green and twinkle and gah and thank you and twinkle and I want a creeper called Fred.

**Pixie Wildfire**: - Of course… Heh. Yay. Twinkle thank you happy birthday bye bye.


	12. Chapter 12

The cord snaked across the floor and Piper whipped it after her irritably as it entwined itself with the dining room table. Yanking the cord a last time, she pushed the vacuum cleaner into the conservatory, its wheels clattering on the tiled floor. She blew hair out of her face and stabbed the off button, straightening with frustrated hands on her hips.

"God! This vacuuming seems to be going on forever."

"Piper, you're _four months_ pregnant. Get someone else to do the damn cleaning for you," Bridget suggested, stretching luxuriously on the couch and flipping channels. The baby moved inside her again and she smiled until the cleaner started up its quotidian whine.

"I've got to," Piper said over the machine as Bridget stabbed the up button for the volume on the remote. "It's not as if anyone else is going to do it."

Bridget sat up slowly, swinging her legs over the edge of the couch and looking pityingly at the harassed, pregnant witch cleaning before her. If there was one thing she had learned about pregnancy it was that it was meant to be an easy ride. You were supporting another life — you should _demand_ people wait on you hand and foot. She was going to be kind of sad when this whole thing was over in two months time.

A smile stretched across her face as she remembered the last time she had people waiting on her. Ben picking out her weapons, Chris having to carry her across large mud pits in the woods… that was the life. She certainly would have no objections to some prince coming in right now, slinging her across his horse and galloping away with her to be a princess. Just as long as she got servants and a pony. And a tiara.

And would a couple of palaces and people on their knees worshiping her carved golden image be too much to ask?

Piper was tugging at a large pot plant in a vain attempt to move it so she could clean underneath it. It was making several grating noises against the tiles but not really going anywhere except in a circle. When it wobbled dangerously and threatened to squash the Charmed One, Bridget got up from the couch (fighting a wicked twinge in her back to do so) and walked over to help, lifting the pot clear off the floor. She held it there so Piper could clean.

The leaves were tickling her nose and she blew out through her mouth, but the foliage just seemed to multiply in front of her face, growing greener and greener and more and more obtrusive.

Piper, however, didn't start the cleaner again. A small frown instead creased her forehead. "Bridget…" she began, posing the question delicately, licking her lips slightly. "Why is it exactly that you're so strong?"

Bridget set the large terracotta pot back down on the floor and the plant rustled appreciatively. She sighed and sat back down on the couch, trying to put together the entire story from the fragments she remembered. "Okay… Well, it goes something like this. In every generation there's a Chosen One. She alone will stand against the demons and the something-or-others. She's the Slayer."

"So you're this… Slayer? I thought you said Nixa was one too? How does that work? If there's only one in every generation?"

"Heh. No, I'm not the Slayer. I'm a Hunter."

Piper's frown deepened and the look made Bridget realise she was being rather vague. Unlike the Piper she had known in the future, this Piper didn't know about slayers or hunters or anything like that and wouldn't for a while. She sighed and tried to catch Piper up just a little bit to where she was used to Piper being. "See, that spiel up there isn't exactly correct. There were many _potential_ Slayers born into a generation, but only one was meant to be active at any one time. Of course it got screwed up somewhere sometime because it's a magical system and magical systems do tend to screw up but still. Basically, there were all these girls with the potential to tap into their Slayer strength and powers; they just couldn't until they were called. You with me so far?"

"Uh, yeah, I think so…" Piper was sitting down now as well, her brown eyes interested.

"Well, there was a time when a great number of Slayers were needed to defeat this one great evil. They were being killed off left and right so they couldn't aid in the defeat of the big bad. So this insanely powerful goddess — at least I think she was a goddess (Nixa's knows — knew— this much better than me)... Anyway, this goddess who might not actually be a goddess made it to so that every single girl in the world who could be a Slayer would be a Slayer.

"So now every time a girl is born into this world with the potential to be a Slayer, they _are_ a Slayer." Bridget laughed humourlessly. "I guess they didn't think about the effect the consequences of their actions would have on future generations, huh?" She smiled wryly, somewhat bitterly, out of the sunroom window for nearly a full two minutes before speaking again. "And then, because there had always, always been one Slayer singular – a Slayer, the Slayer, whatever – the name got changed. We're now Hunters. And we do that whole fighting demons thing pretty much from when we're old enough to realize that other girls can't pull sinks off the walls, whether it be accidentally or otherwise. You know the drill; a demon senses you and whether you're prepared to fight it or not, you gotta. It's you or the demon.

"The thing about being a Slayer was that no girl ever had her strength before she was called. The thing about being a Hunter – the new way – is that if you might be a Hunter, you _are_ a Hunter. You're born one and you've gotta grow up thinking you're a freak until one day you pop up on the radar of..." She shook her head, blinking a couple of times. Flashes of the old warehouse in her mind. Being hunted down… "That's future consequences anyway. It doesn't have to matter."

"Sweetie…" Piper began, but she cut herself off. What could she say? How could she make a life so ruined by abilities better when her own was so plagued with them? If she could make things better then she would have done it long ago for herself, but she didn't know. She couldn't tell Bridget that it would all be okay, because it might not be.

"Hey, Piper? Everyone thinks I'm really into this whole bad ass gig. Don't tell them – please?"

"I won't. Now, a little assistance with the plant pot, please?"

Bridget scooped the plant up easily once more, letting it rest in her arms as Piper passed the Hoover underneath, cleaning up all the dirt and grit that had accumulated underneath it. Piper had just withdrawn the machine when Bridget gasped and let the plant fall. It thudded heavily against the floor but mercifully didn't break and the Hunter staggered backwards, as if reeling from an invisible force.

"Bridget?" Piper asked, her voice tinged with worry.

The Hunter put her hand to her head and flopped back down on the couch, drained. Bridget fanned herself with her hand, her face clammy. The colours in the windows were suddenly spinning around her in garish flashes, making her blink. "Yeah, sorry. Just felt a little weak and dizzy… Is it warm in here?"

Piper picked up the glass of iced tea on the end table. "Have some tea, you look a little flushed. Are you sure you're okay?"

"Yeah… Yeah, I'm fine, Piper, just a little… you know…"

Piper nodded, her second pregnancy well under way. But she didn't know, thought Bridget. She didn't know at all what it felt like to be in possession of strength one second, and suddenly have your muscles weaken and refuse to hold anything the next. Piper had no idea how it felt to feel so small and defenceless. How could she possibly know?

_**Learning to Tango**_

Ben sighed, tapping the Sharpie against his chin and frowning. In front of him, scrawled on a large piece of paper, were the names of demons, warlocks, darklighters, evil factions and cults and even some mortals. Many had red circles around them; others had thick black crosses through them. He drew a line between a group of warlocks and a darklighter tribe before thinking better of it and scribbling it out. After a couple more moments of consideration he redrew it, sensing a possible coalition in order to get to Wyatt before the demons. But then again… He spun, turning and clenching his fist around the pen to stop himself from hurling it across the room in frustration. Maybe they should look for a dry erase board.

All of this was getting them nowhere. Chris was squinting at two star charts, contemplating the distances between the planets and then comparing them to a calendar, trying to see if there were any particular alignments due any time before he was born. So far he had nothing and he sighed, turning to his own poster board full of demons.

Chris chewed on his bottom lip and ran a hand through his hair, relenting and lowering it to rub at his tired eyes. He stretched his eyes out with the fore and middle fingers of each hand and then went back to work, studying the board. He saw nothing and crossed to Ben's board, musing in front of that one.

"Any luck?" Ben asked hopefully, draping himself over an armchair and rubbing his eyes, popping the cap of the Sharpie off and then back on again with his thumb over and over, concentrating on a spot on the wall.

"Well…" Chris began slowly, drawing out the word even as the connection formed in his mind. "There's a whole darklighter cult here…" He gestured with his pen. "And this warlock schism here, which you've linked. I'm thinking that maybe they could get together and try to get one up on the demons where Wyatt's concerned, so…"

"We need to kill them, right?" Ben asked, snapping the cap back on a last time and tossing it onto the end table next to him.

"Right," Chris said, crossing to the Book of Shadows. "I think the warlocks will be the easiest. It should only take some potions and some athames." He frowned, flipping through the tome in front of him. "But…"

"Ah. A 'But'. Of course."

"I don't remember what was needed to vanquish the — " Chris paused absently as he looked over the names at the heads of the pages he was flipping through until he found the one he wanted. He finished definitively, " — Darklighters."

The book was now open at the entry for the darklighter cult in question and Ben walked around the stand to take a look at it. His eyes scanned the page and clouded with worry and confusion so that when he was done and he looked up to meet Chris's eyes, Chris definitely didn't like the look of them at all.

"Darklighters that need a Power of Three spell?" Ben asked uncertainly, re-reading the entry. "I didn't know there _were_ any that powerful."

"This is, apparently, like some high priest darklighter. An old one that has killed more whitelighters than any other darklighter can claim. He's practically immortal — just like a whitelighter — and it looks like the only thing that's gonna kill him is a Power of Three spell."

Ben drummed a staccato beat on the crinkled page with his fingers. "I'd say on a hunch that the warlocks will send a minion first and fail. And then the Darklighter King will send someone and fail and then they'll find out that they should work together — "

" — And we don't know if we're strong enough to fend off an attack from both," Chris finished for him.

"Exactly. And more to the point, how the hell are we going to get Paige in there to say the spell without getting her skewered about a hundred times over?"

"We'll think of something," Chris said, determined. "Maybe we could summon him here and kill him?"

"But then won't that just lead to the house swarming with darklighters looking for their master?"

Chris sighed in slightly irritated defeat. "Well, we've gotta make it work somehow, right?"

Chris walked to the potion cabinet and began filling his arms with carefully selected potions from the shelves. Having nothing else to do for the past four months, he had spent a lot of time stockpiling the sisters' most powerful potion recipes, adding liberal dashes of future knowledge in between the pinches of cumin seeds and dashes of salamander blood.

The glass vials clinked together in his arms as he fished the last one out and left the cupboard open before emptying his arms onto the couch. They clattered down in a gentle, hard, translucent, multi-coloured rain and rolled, lying still when they were all piled against the back of the couch.

"Okay, this is enough to leave a crater in the world instead of the whole warlock faction," Ben said approvingly, stepping up behind Chris as the witch-whitelighter counted.

"Well, if we're right then we're only going to need a couple. I mean, they're not going to send all of them here, right? But it'll be a couple each. No one can go unprepared. I'll go give a few vials each to Mom and Bridget now. I think Paige is due home soon so she's going to need some, too. Whenever Phoebe comes home we'll ply her with them as well. Just get them to keep them to hand. It should be enough to stop most attackers."

Chris was distracted, counting the potion vials and forcing his brain to work out the simple calculations. Nothing was happening up there anymore, at least not at any type of speed. It was like his brain just got sick of the constant working and had just given up on him for the night. It was nearing seven p.m. now and the light in the attic was fading fast, but Chris couldn't be bothered to turn on the lights yet. He had a couple of bigger issues to try and work out. They could work this whole warlock thing. He just needed a couple of minutes to think away from all the stress and tension over the uncertainty of what was going to happen to his brother — to his future.

There was an explosion followed by the sound of splintering wood from downstairs, sending both Ben and Chris jumping up, suddenly alert. Chris immediately orbed out while Ben dived halfway across the room just in time to hitch a ride, managing to disappear as well.

They appeared in the foyer just in time for the living room doorframe to have a large chunk taken out of it in a spray of glowing woodchips. Ben threw his arm up and smouldering splinters blasted into his sleeve. Chris heard his mother curse. She was standing in the parlour with her hands raised, obviously having just deployed her power.

"What the — ?"

"Sh!" Bridget had come out from the sunroom with her eyes closed, waving her hands furiously at the two witches in the foyer. She kept her eyes closed, her breathing rhythmic as she whirled around, stabbing her finger at a space in front of the closet under the stairs. "There!"

The warlock blinked in a few metres to the left and Piper whirled, blowing the closet door inwards in a shower of splinters.

"Dammit!"

"But… but…" Bridget sat down heavily on the couch. "I was wrong… I'm never wrong…"

_Your strength and abilities fading with each passing day… Soon you'll just be a mortal like the rest of them out there, running scared._

Ben flicked his wrists at the warlock, sending a blast of fire at him. The warlock blinked out and the banisters were annihilated. Bridget shrieked and threw herself down on the floor in front of the sofa, peering into the darkness underneath as flaming pieces of wood fluttered to the floor.

_Come on, you know it's true. No one's going to save you and you're going to die all alone._

"Bridget, where's he going to be next? Bridget?"

_Is the warlock coming closer? I think he is. One athame and that will be the end for you and baby… That _would_ break boyfriend's heart now, wouldn't it?_

Bridget was lying on the floor, trying to suck in deeper and deeper breaths in the hope the rising panic would go away. It wasn't. Her palms were clammy with sweat and she squeezed her eyes shut as another explosion rocked the room. Never had she felt such irrational and malapropos fear in her heart as she had now. It was just a warlock. One of the most lumpen of the evil she fought so often. Only a warlock and yet… Her heart was rattling against her ribcage, fluttering like a trapped bird. Adrenaline was drawing blood away from her skin and stomach, making her look pale and her stomach feel odd. Fight or flight — except for the first time she wanted to do the latter.

_The warlock's going to get you… You're all alone, little girly._

Chris flung his arm out as the warlock reappeared in the living room, sending him crashing backwards into the piano. The instrument let out a loud, discordant clunk and slammed back into the wall.

Piper moved in from the parlour, Ben moved in from the foyer, and together they blasted the crumpled warlock, vanquishing him. His demise left a scorch-mark on the piano as Piper's hands slapped down.

"We just had that thing tuned," she muttered, quasi-whining before composing herself.

Suddenly Bridget screamed and the three witches turned and ran for the parlour. Another warlock was standing over her with an athame, the side of her couch redoubt that meant the piece of furniture couldn't protect her. She kicked him in the shins and struggled to pull herself up onto the sofa but the warlock was on her again. She drove her foot into his stomach, sending a shockwave up her leg into her hip. She yelped in pain, a small fireball appearing in her hand. She threw it at the warlock but he dodged it, taking two steps backwards and nearly tripping over the coffee table before righting himself, giving Bridget time to scramble over the back of the sofa and run for the foyer.

Chris opened his arms to receive her and she let him wrap them around her trembling frame. He kissed the top of her head lightly and she buried her face in his shirt, fighting back sobs and taking in gasping breaths. He shushed her gently, rocking side-to-side slightly in a vain attempt to pacify her. Her shaking was scaring him. What had happened to her to make her so frightened?

On the other side of the room, Ben's fireball blew a chunk out of the rug, and a second later, an explosion from Piper ripped through an end table, blowing its lamp against the wall and shattering the bulb and ceramic base.

The warlock reappeared at the foot of the stairs, taking out an athame and throwing it at the couple in the hall. Chris's eyes widened and he pushed Bridget to the floor without thinking. The Hunter shrieked and before she hit the rug she disappeared in a shower of orange, flaming orbs. Chris blinked in shock, nearly forgetting to dive out of the way. He rumpled the rug as he hit the floor and skidded well into the living room. The front door opened revealing a vulnerable Paige standing in the knife's path in his place.

Piper ran around the corner, her hands out to freeze the flying weapon but Paige called for it, the orbs tickling the end of her nose, and redirected it at the warlock. It hit him in the chest, vanquishing him.

"Is it too much to ask to give a girl a reception that doesn't involve weapons flying at her?" Paige asked, blowing hair out of her face and fanning at it. "Because yeesh, that one was a little close."

_**Learning to Tango**_

"Chris, she'll be fine. When have you ever known Bridget not to be able to take care of herself? She'll come florbing back in here any minute."

Paige looked up, a frown of confusion crossing her features as she flipped her hair out of her face with her hand. "Florbing?" The Charmed One asked, bending down again sweeping the fine pieces of glass from the broken bulb into a dustpan and dumping them in the trashcan in the centre of the parlour.

"Yeah, she's got this thing going on. Like orbing, only it's like someone put a match to it. Very cool and very Bridget."

Paige bent down to start sweeping up the ceramic base of the lamp. Chris was sitting on the couch with his eyes closed and head bowed, trying to sense Bridget.

"You don't get it," Chris said, looking up. "Bridget was different tonight. She… she wasn't herself…"

Ben rolled his eyes, tossing stakes of wood from the closet door into the trash and waving a vague hand at it, incinerating its contents to about an eighth of its original size. "Yeah, but—"

"Got her."

"See? She's fine and alive. Just like I said she would be, might I add?" Ben looked strangely at the doorknob he had retrieved from a pocket of one of the jackets and rolled his eyes, tossing it at the direction of the bin. It made a loud clanging sound, forcing Paige to clamp her hands over the metal sides to stop the vibrations before dumping in a dustpan full of shattered ceramic.

"Well, don't just sit there Chris," Piper said, wondering vaguely if they could somehow repair the end table with a couple of screws and three bottles of wood glue. "Go get the poor thing and bring her back here. I'll make some more iced tea."

She abandoned all thoughts of repairing the furniture as her heels clacked across the dining room floor and turned into the kitchen. Piper chose not to mention the strength problem Bridget had earlier, seeing as how her son was worried enough. Perhaps later.

"How come he gets to leave?" Ben pouted indignantly as his friend disappeared in a shower of orbs.

Paige tapped Ben on the shoulder and handed him the broom. "Sorry, buddy."

Ben looked down at the broom while Paige looked just as sourly down at her dustpan and then around at the mess of the foyer and parlour. They caught each other's eyes and smiled, Ben flicking his eyebrows up in a devilish way. Needing no further encouragement, Paige chanted away with a conspiratorial air.

"_Let the object of objection become but a dream,_

_As I cause the seen to be unseen."_

Little white lights floated around the room, buffeted on invisible air currents until the parlour and foyer were thankfully clear of debris. The two witches high-fived and flopped onto the couch.

"So what's on TV tonight?"

_**Learning to Tango**_

The concrete she was sitting on was white and rough and cool. It was just giving off the last of the Sun's heat even through it had set hours before. The top Bridget was wearing was thin and floaty at the sleeves and not exactly suitable for a San Francisco night without a jacket. She had to bunch the fabric in both fists to stop it tickling her arms.

San Francisco was pretty, spread out before her all blue-purple with night and yet twinkling with lights. And more than a couple of neon signs, which weren't so pretty but she could deal with them. A breeze smelling of the ocean rushed over her and she shivered, goosebumps rising on her arms.

There was water gushing behind her again, and she felt the tower vibrate with the sheer force as it whooshed through the pipes and down to the city. Probably to you know, bathe a baby or water some pretty plant.

Oh, who was she kidding? She was no optimist.

Orbs began to loudly coalesce into a human form and she looked up, watching Chris fully appear from them. Orbing was so pretty. Almost as pretty as the city out there.

"I've been sensing everywhere for you," Chris said, crouching down beside her. "Why didn't you call for me?"

Bridget shrugged, not meeting his eyes but gazing out over the city again. Another breeze blew. This one was warmer and she settled back against the concrete wall, letting it lull and caress her. It lifted her hair back from her face and she allowed herself to enjoy it before it was gone.

"It's nice up here. Good alone time place. You've got your bridge, so…"

Chris nodded in understanding, taking a seat next to her and admiring the view. "What are you thinking about?"

Again Bridget didn't answer, her eyes glittering as she looked towards the cars rushing across the Bay Bridge. Always traffic, always manic, whatever time of day. Red brake lights glared evilly at her and winking front headlights flashed towards her and the city.

"Just stuff. You know. It started out as a nice view and then I was gonna go back but I think the baby's asleep now. So I was kind of stuck here. And then it got me thinking how those people down there don't know that this city is going to be a pile of rubble and their families are going to be all broken and killed. And it makes me sad because I'm just so worried that we can't stop it from happening. I mean, if Wyatt's not going to do it then we have another powerful kid right here who could. What if I can't control the baby and he or she goes all Wyatt on us?

"And then I was thinking about how everyone down there is just one person. I mean, they're all part of the city but they're only really one anonymous person down there who really doesn't count for all that much. And, you know, I was wondering… what it was like."

"What it was like?"

"Yeah. What it was like to just be your own person and only have to think about you and maybe your family and not have to think about the whole world and junk like that. I mean, don't you ever wonder what it would have been like to be someone who doesn't matter, someone who is just in the crowd and isn't apart from it because it was destined so?"

Chris seemed momentarily startled at Bridget's confession as she sighed, rolling her eyes and looking back over the city. She hadn't really expected him to get it. Guys didn't do feelings all that well. That, plus the fact that Chris loved being a witch, loved standing apart from everyone else and having responsibilities. But her? She was sick of it. She wanted a normal life with a normal baby and a normal boyfriend in Chris. She wanted to blend back into the background. She only had vague memories of being normal. When she was eight she'd been officially called as a Hunter and from then on her life had just been one big fight. Constant battling, constant demon after demon, evil after evil, day after day…

And she was tired. So very, very tired.

And now? Now it was completely different. Now she couldn't protect herself anymore. Her strength had been ebbing. She had put it down to not using it, what with the baby and all. That would probably make sense. But now it was gone. Completely and utterly stripped from her and she had no idea where that power had gone. Talk about use 'em or lose 'em, she thought bitterly.

"Chris…" Bridget got up and stretched slightly, walking over to the guardrail that ran around the top of the water tower. She took some deep breaths in and grabbed one of the metal bars with a fist, tightening her grip on it.

"Bridget, what—?"

"Just let me show you." She squeezed her eyes closed and pulled as hard as she could. Her shoulder and elbow joints popped and cracked and sent flashes of pain up her nerves. Veins stood out in harsh relief against her pale arms and her body was shaking with the effort, her face screwed up.

Eventually she gasped out a deep breath and let her arm fall to her side. She rotated her shoulder in her socket a couple of times and looked at the bar. It was just where it had been moments ago. Not a kink or a bend spoiled the cold, grey metal and she sighed, sitting back down.

"See?"

Chris was confused and shuffled closer to Bridget. She hugged her knees tighter to herself and shifted away slightly, needing all of her clarity unclouded by intimacy and closeness.

"See _what_ exactly?"

"The bar. Does it look bent to you?"

"No… But — Oh." Realisation hit him hard, but he didn't want her to know that. Instead he reached over and tucked a few errant strands of hair behind her ear. Softly, he asked, "What's happened to you?"

Bridget shrugged slowly, letting her shoulders fall in defeat. "I don't know."

She looked so small sitting there, hunched into herself. The city was drawing her gaze again, sparkling in her pupils.

"I think I do," Chris began. "The baby's feeling threatened by what's going on, right? And seeing as how it has such a powerful mommy, it's drawing strength from her. From you. You're not losing your strength; you've just… misplaced it."

Bridget thought over this answer, tiny wrinkles appearing on her forehead. "Well… I did get a little dizzy last time the baby moved in the sunroom… I dropped a plant…"

"See? The baby's using your own strength and powers to protect itself. It's fine."

Bridget sniffed and looked up, pulling herself slowly to her feet. Chris got up and held his hand out to her but she didn't take it, wobbling to her feet all by herself. "Let's go."

_**Learning to Tango**_

Bridget pulled a face as her spoon grated on something gritty at the bottom of the mug. The dark coffee in front of her swirled as she added creams on top of the half a reservoir Chris had made her put in it to dilute it. For the baby's sake. Ha! How did anyone expect this thing to be the future of all evil if it couldn't handle its caffeine? She reached for the sugar and dumped three packets into it before stirring again. Now the bottom of the cup felt even grittier as she scraped her spoon over it. She sighed, taking a sip anyway. Coffee was coffee after all.

It was a little weak and the grainy bits at the bottom had managed to float to the stop and stick to her tongue, but it was caffeine. She'd have to keep telling herself that. A lot. Chris was watching her drink from across the table, smiling slightly.

"What?"

"Nothing. I'm just wondering why we never managed to get you off caffeine before and suddenly you're pregnant and you drop practically all of it. Practically."

"That's because I was never carrying another life before." Bridget took another sip of her coffee, making a mental note to scrub her tongue later. "Oh, and I had a stash under my bed… And when I wasn't pregnant I could have kicked your ass to Mars for trying."

Chris didn't disagree with her. He whole-heartedly believed her, for one thing. Bridget was busy sorting the brown sugar from the white sugar as Chris frowned and asked, "You know that coffee is—"

Bridget shrugged. "Yeah, yeah. And I had some on the top shelf of the closet — Ooh!"

The waitress was passing and Bridget reached up and snatched a small plastic pack of children's puzzles and a small set of blue, green, red and brown crayons from the tray. She opened it and emptied it out on the table, catching the green without looking at it as it threatened to roll off the edge.

"Crap. They got brown." She wrinkled her nose, did a swift look around to make sure the waitress wasn't looking and knocked it onto the floor. "See?" She smiled brightly. "I knew there was a reason you brought me here."

Chris smiled at her over his own mug. "Bridget, they're puzzles for four-year-olds."

"Yeah, I know. I beat them every time. Suckers." She stuck her tongue between her teeth and began tracing one of the mass of lines in blue from Larry the Leprechaun to his pot of gold.

Chris peered over at it. "Oh yeah, _that's_ a real leprechaun. Where's the shillelagh?"

Bridget was too absorbed in her task to answer and Chris went back to drinking his coffee. He pulled a face. Okay, this was bad coffee. It was an all night diner so he didn't really expect that much but still. Ugh. It practically tasted like dirt. And going by what was now burnt onto his tongue, it probably was. He craned his neck to the kitchen area, wondering where their batch of cheesy fries and burgers were before looking back at Bridget.

Bridget's hair had fallen into her face and the end was just tickling the tabletop. A pair of headlights whooshed past the window attached to a car, lighting her up from behind for a couple of seconds through the grimy plate glass window. She was leaning ever closer to that puzzle, so close that it looked like her tongue was about to get it wet. He smiled at her again. God, he loved her. She just… There was something about her that he didn't quite get but…

What would've happened to them if she hadn't run away when they were kids? They were on the verge of something before... the event... and then she was gone without a trace. Finding her again had been like trying to snatch smoke with your hand. Would he have become friends with Bianca after Wyatt went evil if Bridget had stayed? Would they have ever gotten together? Would she be the one that he had taken with him to the manor to travel back? The one he asked to marry?

But that didn't matter anymore. Bianca was gone and they were fixing the future, making it better. They would go back and he would make things right between them then, too. Try for something more. He already had the family thing going with her, after all.

Chris smiled, putting his mug down and reaching over, tucking Bridget's hair behind her ear before it could get stuck to some unidentifiable spill on the table.

Bridget looked up momentarily but Chris's hand was already back across the table and she didn't realize what he had done. Suddenly she sat back up straight, put the blue crayon down hard enough to snap it and waved the paper in the air with triumph.

"I found the pot of gold. Oh, yeah. I'd like to see a four-year-old do it that fast. I so win. In your face, munchkins!"

Chris gave her a wry smile as the waitress dropped their food off with an odd look at the chair-dancing girl across from him. He managed to snatch the paper from her fingertips to look at it, and it took her half a minute to realize that it had gone before she was reaching back across the table to try and get it back.

Chris turned the small maze the right way up and squinted, keeping the piece of paper out of Bridget's grasp. "Bridget? You found the bike… with two flat tyres… And you skipped over two lines to get there."

Bridget snatched it back and crammed it in her pocket. "Oh, like the toddlers are smart enough to know that. My maze. Get your own." She then proceeded to cram all of the crayons in there except for the brown one and then the packet and the other puzzle.

"I think they're meant to be given out free to CHILDREN," Chris said pointedly, smirking as Bridget snapped the red crayon trying to fit it into her pocket.

"See, that's your problem, Chris," Bridget told him conversationally, squirting some ketchup onto her order of fries. He would like to pretend that this was a pregnancy craving, but it was actually Bridget in real life. When she spoke again it was through a mouthful of meat and bread. "You're just not fun anymore."

"I am, too!"

Bridget chewed, putting the burger down on her plate and licking ketchup and mustard from her finger. "Oh, Chris. You're like all Mr. Responsibility with your demon hunting and your world saving," she teased, fully aware that she did the same thing. Just a little less responsibly. And she had more fun.

"Oh, yeah?"

Bridget took up her coffee mug again and spoke into it. "Uh-huh."

"Nuh-uh."

She grimaced and put the mug back on the table. "Oh, soooooo uh-huh."

"OW!" Chris rubbed his suddenly burning shin and Bridget smirked into her cup. "Why did you kick me?"

Bridget looked at him innocently. "You don't argue with the mother of your child. The gods will smite you for it. So consider yourself smote. I just saved the gods a job. I'm trying to get in on their good side." Chris opened his mouth but Bridget held up her hand, silencing him. "I know what you're going to say. And it was going to be something along the lines of what your dear friend Ben would say — By the way, I need to hit him. I should write that down…" She began yanking a crayon out of her pocket again and took a napkin from the holder to write on. "'Kill… Ben…'"

"I thought you said you were just going to hit him?"

Bridget pouted at her napkin and added the world 'nearly' at the top of her reminder. Chris smiled, satisfied, and Bridget tried to cram the crayon back into her pocket again.

"Who's paying for this?" she asked suddenly, with half the crayon out of her pocket and a mostly-devoured burger in her hand.

Chris sat bolt upright and sloshed his suddenly very expensive-seeming coffee over the table and his lap. "Crap! Money. I knew there was something I needed."

"I thought you were meant to be treating me?" Bridget asked, indignant.

Chris rolled his eyes. "Well, yeah, but…"

Bridget rolled her eyes right back at him, and Chris was momentarily perturbed. "What? I got sick of you doing it. Now you know what it feels like though, right?"

Chris fought another eye roll at the comment and continued to fret over the fact that they were going to have to make a run for it. When he looked up from the dark surface of his coffee, Bridget was reaching down into her bra and pulling out four one hundred dollar bills. Chris blinked slow and hard, thinking that perhaps he was imaging it. She placed them on the table and reached into the other cup, pulling out a wad of bills.

"Ten, twenty, seventy, ninety, one-ten… two-ten… Ooh… That one should be in the other pile… One-ten, one-twenty, one-forty, one-ninety, two-forty, two-eighty, three." She dug further down her top and pulled out another crumpled bill. "And a one thousand Yen note. Argh!"

Folded within the note were three aces. They sprang out onto the table and Bridget snatched them up, tucking them back down into her bra and clearing her throat. "Drink up. Coffee's on me."

"Bridget… You didn't rob a bank, did you?"

Bridget rescued a fry from Chris's plate, dragging a string of cheese after it and munching it thoughtfully. The rapidly-hardening trail of cheese stayed on the already-sticky tabletop "Ha! No. Were there any banks at Magic School? I don't think so," she cocked her head. "You know, Benjamin Franklin's kind of cute…"

"Okay, snap out of it." Her words actually processed and he scowled. "Wait, what? No, he's not… Is he? Would you rather go out with him than me?"

Bridget smiled graciously at the indignant and very paranoid young man in front of her. Oh, this was amusing. He generally thought she'd run off with someone else if she got a better offer. So she scoffed. "Of course not. Benjamin Franklin's dead." She smiled back at the money. "Aren't you, Benji? And after that episode we had with the zombies? No way am I dating any more dead guys… Even if that vampire was kind of cute… Shame he only wanted me for my looks, though…"

Chris blinked a little and just stared at her as she continued to fuss over the money. "Okay, Bridget? Firstly, the vampire wanted you for your blood, not your looks. And secondly? You're cooing over the fifty."

"Yeah, but it's Ben Franklin."

"Bridget, Franklin's on the — never mind." He shook his head, deciding to let Bridget be. He could give her an American History class later, the one she should have had in about the third grade. The witch-whitelighter made a grab for the money but she quickly pushed his hand away and he tucked his hands back around his coffee bug lest he incur her wrath. "So if you didn't rob a bank, where'd you get the money from?"

Bridget shuffled through the money, smiling and sorting the edges to ruler straightness. "Playing poker at magic school. Don't you love the way money is kinda green?"

"Playing… Bridget! They're not old enough to gamble!"

"And? Doesn't stop them thinking they can beat me." She winked at him, flexing her fingers. "But I got all the cards."

"Is that why there are three aces in your bra?"

Bridget shrugged. "Yeah. I figured they're safe seeing as how anyone who goes anywhere near there gets his hand pulverised to mush."

Chris smiled impishly at her as she flicked imaginary lint off 'Ben Franklin', who he knew perfectly well was actually seventeenth president Grant but like he'd said: the American history lesson was for later. "As I recall, you were the one turning to mush."

Bridget turned bright red and muttered something when Chris again felt a sharp pain in both shins and slopped coffee all down his shirt.

"Hey!"

"Sorry. My foot slipped."

"I love you, you know that?"

Bridget looked up in surprise from where she was smiling at her money. "Where did that come from?" she asked warily, wondering if what he said was true. "Did they put something in your coffee? If so, I'm having that mug. Hand it over."

She made a grab for Chris's mug but he held it out of her reach, not intending to give up any more coffee than he had done already to his clothes and the table top. Bridget had her own mug. The witch-whitelighter pushed a cheesy fry around the plate, scraping the last of the cheese onto the end of the last fry and eating it.

Bridget eyed half of the burger on his plate hungrily. "Are you going to eat that?"

Chris was about to tell her that yes, he was going to eat every last crumb, but then he looked into her face. He rolled his eyes and pushed the plate towards her. Before the piece of crockery had reached the centre of the table Bridget had taken the burger from it and had bitten into it, ketchup spattering to the worn, duct-tape-patched vinyl seats. She wolfed down another bite, demolishing the burger with the third.

They sat in the booth and made small talk for a while, skirting around the real issue of the big bad (or rather, several big bads) that was hovering over them and the way Bridget had reacted in the parlour. They were saved when the waitress came over and put the receipt down on the table. Chris picked it up and looked at it. It had come to a little less than fifteen bucks. Bridget snatched the receipt out of his hand and looked down the small list, scrutinising each item carefully. Pouting she ran her hand over the piles of banknotes in front of her, trying to choose the least cute one to give away.

It was an agonizing decision and she looked over each note before Chris snatched up a ten dollar bill, slammed it onto the counter and went back over to the booth, where Bridget had already crammed the money back into her bra.

"Nooooo!" She said as he took her firmly by the arm to lead her out of the diner. "That was Washington!"

_**Learning to Tango**_

**_Disclaimer: - I do not own any of Charmed. Any recognisable characters herein are property of the WB, Spelling TV etcetera, etcetera. Nor do I own the idea I used from Buffy the Vampire Slayer – that belongs to Joss Whedon and quite possibly the WB as well. No infringement intended. Blah, blah, blah these go on forever just don't sue me because I'll bite you, got it?_**

**_And there it is. I want to thank all of those patient people out there that waited for this. Patiently. Heh, go figure. Anyways that is that last you will hear on the matter of Buffy. I won't be mentioning it again and no characters will be appearing – I just got a little tired of ripping off such a good show._**

**Stony Angel****: -_ Oh, I know you do, honey. And I'm really, really sorry. My life is HECTIC with all those caps right now. But thank you for reviewing. It means a lot to me._**

**Chattypandagurl****: -_Heh. Thank you! You're so kind._**

**mizunderstood writer****_: - Heh, no. I was on a 'Crap I forgot to sleep AGAIN' high. See? I'm like that now… But bed is soon. Reeeal soon. Thank you!_**

**ilovedrew88****: - _It's a bumpy road ahead if you'll stick with me. We'll get there eventually. Thanks for your review._**

**minimonkey89: -_ Yeah? I liked it, too. Thank you!_**


	13. Chapter 13

The tip of the athame disappeared into a point too fine to see. And yet it was still boring a miniscule hole in the blotter as it twirled; its steel cold, unrelenting, wicked and glinting. The blade had a sheen to it but it seemed dull, but it was only when one looked closer than one saw the mass of writhing colours there. Greys and pewter and deep purples and blacks and occasionally the flash of bright slivers as it caught the light from the window. And still it twirled — faster and faster, first one way and then the other. It reached the wood of the desktop and kept making a hole, eating through the wood and leaving the smallest of holes on the surface.

The blade was cursed. And the knife looked sinister already, prepared especially for the job it had to do. The rosewood handle had been scorched by the power of the curse —– it was now ugly and darker than ebony, the inlay glinting through in vague snatches of gold, consumed by the darkness.

Gideon smiled, spinning the athame one final time before waving a hand at it. It flared red and disappeared. Everything was in place now; he just needed to set the plan in motion.

Mauve orbs devoured his black-robed form, shrieking and clamouring around him before fading through the floor.

_**Learning to Tango**_

"So what is it exactly that you're looking for?" Leo asked, peering intently and Ben's seemingly random page-flipping. He didn't really get it. It seemed to him like the witch was stabbing in the dark. But then again he was also pretty sure that the witch knew best so he was content to let Ben be with his 'research'; or whatever it was that he was doing.

The Book of Shadows was open on the parlour's coffee table and Ben was sick of looking at it. He now knew the book practically off by heart and could recite half of the entries by memory. It had been a _long_ four months.

"Uh… Any demon that might be powerful enough to turn Wyatt, or any demon that could have enough power to organise the Underworld, or any demon that could be running a training camp for younger demons, or any demon…" Ben trailed off absently, tired of futile searching.

"So basically any demon?" Leo asked.

Ben looked up at him blearily, trying his hardest to ready some kind of sarcastic comment or even throw Leo a look, but he couldn't. He sighed and nodded, throwing himself back into the couch. "Yeah."

"Anything I can do?"

"Yeah, get out of here. We're still waiting for those darklighters to attack." Ben picked the book up and held it under one arm, ready to go back upstairs and look at the poster boards again.

"I'm not leaving."

"Leo, you have to, okay? It's too dangerous to be here right now and… And no matter what Chris says he needs a father. Got it?"

"_You're_ here. Chris needs you as well."

Ben quirked an eyebrow at the Elder and, shifting the Book tighter under his left arm, he gestured vaguely with his right, violently combusting the centre arrangement on the dining room table to pieces with much more force that necessary. "_That's_ the reason I get to be here."

The witch started for the stairs again and was halfway up when he realised Leo was still following him. He turned tiredly, rubbing his free hand across his eyes and trying to work out a way to get rid of the Elder that didn't involve blasting him to kingdom come.

_This witch is procrastinating… He wants you to leave so he can get his shot at your son…_

Leo's head whipped around, searching the parlour for the source of the voice. It was empty. Phoebe was at work and Paige was at Magic School, getting a room ready next to Bridget's for Piper. They had decided that what with the constant attacks around here neither of the pregnant women should stay at the Manor. It was too risky to think that Bridget might tap into her demonic powers or that Piper might have her best offensive power replaced by flowers or fireworks. The Eldest Charmed One was taking Wyatt as well so he would be safe and seeing as how it was impossible to die at Magic School…

"Who's there?" Leo demanded, his face angry.

_There's no one here. This is just one of your greatest fears talking, isn't it? That Wyatt's going to end up evil… _The voice elongated the 'E' in evil and turned it singsong, mocking Leo.

"Leo, the parlour's empty," Ben said hesitantly, looking around.

_Exactly. There's no one here but you and the witch that's trying to murder your son._

"Piper?" Ben called towards the top of the stairs. The oldest Charmed One was packing her things right now, ready to be orbed over to Magic School. Maybe her presence could placate the Elder? Ben still remembered having to stop Leo from killing Chris.

_And now he's after dear wife-y. You know just as well as I do that he's a threat…_

"If you touch her, I will kill you," Leo snarled, looking Ben up and down.

"Leo, whatever's doing this to you is something evil. You've got to fight it."

"NO!" Leo thrust his hand forward and unleashed a torrent of lightning at Ben.

The witch yelped and threw himself to the floor and the book leapt out of his grasp and fluttered and thumped and tumbled and flapped its way onto the half landing.

The lightning burst on the wall, setting alight to the wallpaper. Smoke curled up from the peeling paper. And. Ben scrambled up again just as the stair which he had been leaning on with his left hand was obliterated with a flurry of blue-hot sparks.

"Leo, look. Uh, you don't know what you're doing right now…" Ben was babbling and he knew it. It would take him more time to get up and run than it would for Leo to run him through with a few bolts of electricity. He gulped, temporising for all he was worth. "Wyatt? Remember Wyatt? He's upstairs, he wouldn't want you to be doing this…"

Ben focused and saw a scintilliascintilla of electricity crackle through the air between Leo's finger and thumb and threw himself sideways in an extempore movement that was just enough to save his life. Flaming splinters rained around him. Leo's next shot tore the banisters from their holdings and sent them tumbling over into the entryway where they splintered as they dented the floor.

Ben rolled and flicked his wrists at Leo, blasting him into a swarm of angry orbs. The witch scrabbled for possession on the stair carpet and was on his feet just as Leo reconstituted. The Elder smirked and punched Ben across the face, leaving a searing burn and sending the witch staggering over the edge to fall onto the wreckage below.

Leo peered over the precipice at Ben. The witch was looking down at his stomach in disbelief, his bloodied hands shaking as he regarded the stake that had run through his back.

Leo smirked at what he seemed to think was a copaceticcopasetic job and orbed out.

_**Learning to Tango**_

Piper tilted her head back, singing. Steam was coiling around the bathroom with white, damp tendrils and fogging the mirror, but she had her eyes closed. Hot water cascaded across her body and she massaged her scalp, letting the last of the suds swirl down the drain.

The shower radio was on one of the corner shelves that usually held shampoo, but the bottle was on the floor next to the drain. It was actually Phoebe's – Paige had bought it so that Phoebe could listen to the radio instead of singing, which had been enough to make Paige think Phoebe was actually screeching because of a demon attack and not merely singing in the shower — but Piper had turned the seahorse-shaped, waterproof appliance onto full and was singing along to her favourite station. She bent at the waist and stopped, ending up squatting to try and get around the obstacle her stomach had become over the past months. It was almost like it had crept up on her — she hadn't gone to bed fat one night and yet in the morning… She sighed and pilled her hair on top of her head, squeezing conditioner onto it and rubbing it into her roots.

She wanted one last good shower before she moved to Magic School. She didn't know what the facilities were like there. She imagined something like a high school locker room; all concrete and mildewed. She crinkled her nose at the thought and continued rubbing in conditioner.

_**Learning to Tango**_

A large, gloomy cavern was hung with lights, electrical equipment and wires; snaking black ones that trailed all over the floor and up the walls. On the wall a large but faded banner proudly bore the slogan 'Witch Wars' in gold, the words halved by an athame pointing downwards. Through the undergrowth of electrical wires, three demons sauntered. The only female of the group waved an arm in the direction of the studio for the benefit of the tall demon next to her.

"So what do I get out of it?" The middle demon asked as they came to a halt in the middle of the broadcasting cavern. He was impressed, to be honest. But he should probably hide it. It wouldn't be right to show these demons that he thought they had done a good job. That would perhaps make them think that they were on equal terms with him in the hierarchy — and they weren't.

"Fame, glory, the respect of the entire underworld, and, of course, the powers of the witch you kill," Corr said, waving a hand and starting to walk again. He was trying not to show his desperation. He needed this demon. _They_ needed this demon. Lowly demons were just not cutting it anymore. Too many of them were getting vanquished — his audience wanted to see victories not vanquishes. Besides, the powers _sucked_.

"If you win, that is," Clea added, falling behind the two men. They were so damn close to netting this upper-level demon, all they had to do was play it right and he'd be theirs.

"If I play, I'll win," the demon said confidently, adding a slight swagger to his walk.

"Oh, a demon of your considerable power, we have no doubt," Corr immediately jumped in with, and the demon smiled as his ego grew, knowing somewhere in the back of his mind that Corr was deliberately stoking it. "Just as long as it's… entertaining."

"Just out of curiosity, how did you come up with the idea, anyway?" The demon asked, folding his arms.

"Well, we can't take all the credit," Clea said, answering that question. Tag team tactics. They were that desperate. "I mean you'd think demons would've invented reality television, but somehow humans beat us to it…" She gave a small frown and then a small shrug, bringing up the rear and they all walked through into the control booth.

"Still, it's the best idea we ever stole, and demons everywhere love to watch…" Corr broke off and picked up an athame with a fine point and a piece of parchment. "So, if you're ready to play, just draw your blood and sign on the dotted line," he courteously handed the dagger to the upper-level demon handle first, waiting for it to be taken.

"Draw my blood? Why?" The demon demanded, staring Corr down and making no move to take the athame. He raised an incredulous eyebrow.

"So that your powers, should you for any reason lose, will revert to us," Corr said, talking fast and trying to gloss over the point with the ease of a door-to-door salesman leaving out the small print. It worked on all of the other demons. They hadn't even _read_ the contract.

"My powers? You gotta be kiddin' me. There's no way I'm—-"

"I'm sorry, I thought you were planning to win?"

"And if you don't, you'll be dead, so you won't need your powers anyway," Clea added, a sickly sweet smile and a quick bat of her eyelashes thrown in the demon's direction.

"But it doesn't mean I want you to have 'em!" He shook his head disbelievingly at the two gamesmastersgames masters. "It's quite a racket you've got goin' on here. Get all these guys to sign their powers over to you and to risk their lives, all for some chance to kill some stupid witch."

The upper-level demon turned and left the control booth, still muttering and shaking his head. Corr and Clea exchanged looks and Corr put the athame and contract down quickly, scurrying after the demon that had just left.

"The witch is not the point. The point is fame. The point is—-"

"—-fortune. Yeah, I got it, and that may work on the silly morons you have playing this game so far, but it won't work on me." He gave them a cold look before shimmering out.

"Oh! If we don't get an upper-level demon to play, we will never collect the powers we need!" She stamped a heeled foot in frustration and pouted, tucking her hands into her hips. They had been so damn _close_ it was just that the more powerful demons had so much damn _sense! _She stamped her foot again and growled.

"We just have to be patient. As the game gains in popularity, more and more powerful demons will want to play."

"How do you know?" She asked, her lips still turned down in the pout.

"Because if human beings are foaming at the mouth to humiliate themselves on national television —- and they are —- then demons are an easy mark," he explained, his voice dripping with menace. "It's all a matter of time…"

She extended an arm to him, letting her fingers brush across his chest. "Upper-level humans?" She asked, turning the pout onto him.

"Donald Trump has his own show," he murmured, bringing a smile to her face.

"Mmm…"

He pulled he closer, saying seductively, "Just be patient, my love, and together we'll rule the underworld."

They gave a slight chuckle and leaned in for a kiss. They got close enough for their lips to touch when they were interrupted by a disembodied voice that seemed to emanate from all around the studio.

"It's an old goal, but a good one."

They broke apart and looked around, their darting eyes finding no one. Corr powered up a fireball in his palm and raised it to shoulder height to throw it, still looking for a target.

"Disarm, and I will reveal myself." The voice commanded, and, at a slight nod from Clea, Corr crushed the fireball into a coil of dark smoke. They looked over to two black leather chairs, and in one of them Gideon appeared, ankle resting on one knee.

"What is that, an Elder?" Corr asked his associate.

Clea's eyes lit up, the lust for the kill burning behind them and her mouth twisted into a grin. "Kill him."

Another fireball flared in Corr's hand and Gideon cocked an eyebrow at him, almost willing the demon to throw the ball of fire. It wasn't as if it would kill him. It was all about greed with demons, he knew that from many years of being an Elder. If they thought that you could get their power, then they would listen.

"What I have to offer is far better than anything my death will ever bring you," the Elder said calmly, staring the demons down.

Corr licked his lips and his eyes flicked to Clea for a moment before he crushed the second fireball, curiosity overwhelming him.

_**Learning to Tango**_

"Listen to me. If I could find you through my demonic contacts, then how long do you think it'll be before The Charmed Ones find you and shut you down?" Gideon asked as Corr turned his back on him, choosing a jacket from a rail and slipping it on, trying out the fit with a quick shrug of his shoulders. He did a quick half turn to see the way it fanned as he walked.

"And you're here to warn us?" Corr slipped off the jacket and put it back onto the hanger, and then back onto the rack, flicking imaginary lint off the sleeve. He sneered. "How… _noble_ of you."

"No, I'm here to help you," the Elder said, sounding dangerous for the first time. He gave a fake smile back at Clea as she scoffed. "What?"

"Nothing. It's just, huh. Why don't I believe that?" Corr asked, reaching in for another jacket and checking the label.

"I need the Charmed Ones distracted for a while whilst I accomplish an important mission. And I thought your game might be the perfect thing," he explained, casting an impressed eye around the studio.

All he had to do was reel them in, let them think that he was impressed with what they were doing. The only thing that was the problem was getting them to take the bait. It was a delicate matter and he knew any demons that could take orders from a power higher than themselves that they had a chance of winning against were a rara avis, ( - Huh?), but still. If he let them think he had all the cards, then they'd come running. They were demons after all.

"You want us to target The Charmed Ones?" Corr asked, as if he were speaking to a six-year-old. He cocked an eyebrow at Gideon, and the Elder felt them move further from his grasp. He sighed, trying to reach out again.

"No, I want you to use them. Make them your next stunt, if you will. We'll think of something to keep them busy, keep them involved. Your contestants will have to accomplish a few tasks," Gideon spoke magniloquently and as he studied the two demons he could see which one he needed to be aiming his bargaining at.

Behind Gideon's back Clea wrinkled her nose and shook her head quickly, but Corr licked his lips and frowned slightly deeper.

"Your demons will have to get past them to get to her…" Gideon stopped, realising his mistake.

"Her?" Clea asked, an eyebrow arched.

"There is a very evil girl carrying… what is going to be a very evil child. And another evil child, one already in existence. The Twice Blessed one. I need the distraction so I can keep the Charmed Ones from protecting them whilst I deal with them," Gideon said, watching pleasantly as he saw he had set gears turning in Corr's head at least and allowing himself a small smile, waiting to see what the outcome would be.

"Get past the Power of Three? That's a suicide mission. No one will sign up," Clea said.

Corr put yet another jacket back, the expression on his face showing real interest, even if his partner remained sceptical of the Elder and his motives.

"The Power of Three isn't a factor at the moment because Piper is convalescing at my school for the duration of her pregnancy," he offered, and Clea feel silent, looking thoughtful for the first time.

"It would draw upper-level demons," Corr said quietly to Clea, finally choosing a jacket that he kept on.

"I don't trust him," she hissed back. "Why would an Elder wanna sacrifice an innocent witch or put The Charmed Ones in danger?"

"I don't, and that's part of the deal," Gideon snapped, the tone and the raising of his voice making the two demons turn, surprised. "There will be no blood drawn. Not by you in any case. You will set up a series of tasks, have the demons, oh, I don't know, steal something from the Manor to begin with? Let it escalate from there."

"Steal something?" Clea asked, scepticism written all over her face. No demons would sign up to steal something from a witch. They were demons; they wanted blood not stupid _stuff_.

"If you kill innocents or in any way harm the Charmed Ones, then your game will be over and you will be dead. Understand?" Gideon growled, his voice low, dangerous and silky.

"We don't take kindly to threats, Elder," Clea said, advancing on him with hate scribed on her features, enunciating every word as clearly as she could. The Elder didn't back up or drop his gaze with her.

"Or, um ... how would we, uh, put them under surveillance?" Corr asked, putting an arm around Clea to stop her advancing any more, but hoping it didn't look that way to Gideon.

The Elder realized he had one of them hooked and got ready to reel him into doing his bidding, hoping that this one demon could get the other to follow.

"Get the contestants ready. Put a Charmed One under non-lethal attack, and I'll take care of the rest. The cameras?"

Corr immediately moved between Clea and Gideon to get the cameras, while Clea poked her tongue in her cheek, angry that she was being ignored. She couldn't believe he trusted an Elder. She could almost feel the high-and-mighty being's blade stabbing them both in the back.

Corr came back, opening a wooden box as he did so, displaying five deep red crystals inside. Clea moved to stand beside him, tucking her hands into her hips. They might as well make it look like a show of unity, even if she far from agreed with what her partner was doing. Gideon frowned slightly, reaching out to pick up a crystal. Behind him his own image appeared on one of the TV monitors. Smug, Corr looked to Clea, who glared back at him. Gideon turned and looked at himself in the monitor.

"Clever," he said, putting the crystal back in the box and gently closing the lid, unable to hide the fact that he was actually impressed.

"Thanks," Clea bit out, a slight sneer curling her lip.

"Oh, and one more thing. Should you come across the girl be warned. The Source has a nasty habit of helping her create fireballs. Don't disappoint me." Gideon took the box and orbed away as Corr's mouth twisted to form a grin. Clea turned and hit him hard on the arm. Met his grin with one of her ownClea met his grin with one of her own..

"What's the matter with you?" She demanded. "Why do you trust him?" Infuriated that he was still wearing that grin she moved to hit him again, but he started speaking.

"Did he just say what I think he said?" She purred in disbelief. Corr nodded and Clea's grin faded slightly. "But for all we know he could be lying. Why do you trust him?"

"I don't. But with all the powers that we'll get from the demons who sign up, we'll have more than enough to kill him when the time comes. And if he's _not_ lying then he's just given us a direct path to the Source of All Evil. Didn't you see the way he freaked when he let it slip? Kind of handy to be in favour with him, no? He's not getting that girl — we are. No need to get anymore upper level demons to attempt to rule the Underworld — we'll already have the power to do so.."

"I love it," she purred, playfully reaching out and scratching his chest in a cat-like manner. They moved in and kissed.

_**Learning to Tango**_

Gideon tossed the box down onto his desk. It skidded slightly across the polished wooden top and then came to a halt. Sigmund looked up in surprise as Gideon smirked, throwing himself down into his chair.

"S-sir? I was calling you."

Gideon looked up. "I put an Elder charm over the school. Effectively it acts like the Underworld, blanketing any calls to or for whitelighters. coming in or going out. I don't want them alerting the half-whitelighter brat too soon. They're He and his witch friend are both… too intuitive —; they'd be on to us." Gideon eyed the box thoughtfully.

"So what do we d-do next?"

"I've put a spell on Wyatt's playpen. A one-way, one-time charm that will bring him straight to us once he's put in it. And if I know the Charmed Ones, they'll not want to let the child out of their sights, so that means keeping Wyatt in his playpen in the attic while they check the Book of Shadows for the hints I've had left in the message. That's when we'll get Wyatt. And once we have Wyatt, getting the girl and her baby should be child's play…"

_**Learning to Tango**_

Ben breathed harder trying to shift on the stake of wood through his stomach. The blood on it was turning brown and hard and every move he made broke another splinter off in his gut. But he had to get up… He tried to move again and cried out in pain, screwing his eyes closed.

"C-Chris!" He choked at the chandelier, willing his best friend to come. Where was Chris? Why wasn't he coming?

Suddenly a darklighter black orbed into the entryway. Ben twisted his head around to try and face the intruder, flicking a weak wrist at him. The fire glanced off of the darklighter's chest, leaving a small brown singe on his jacket. Ben tried again but he was too weak to conjure his power once more and the flames died as his head lolled back to the floor helplessly.

The darklighter snorted and grinned maliciously when he saw the downed witch and poked Ben with the butt of his crossbow pusillanimously, knowing that his foe could not even think about fighting back. Normally the sight of such a wounded do-gooder would put him in fine fettle, but he had his orders and he was not here to kill a male witch. He was here to make sure the Charmed Ones got involved. Non-lethally, apparently. Although he couldn't work out why… He was disappointed to find that there were no whitelighter signatures in the house — not even the faint ones that radiated from any half-breed — and moved through the wreckage.

He skirted around Ben, climbing up the staircase. It was a deathtrap with holed, splintered steps and missing banisters halfway up. The darklighter got to the landing and turned, cocking his head this way and that until he pinpointed the location of the running water.

He crouched next to the door, listening intently. A female was singing in the shower. Perfect. There was a Charmed One at home. He black orbed out, swirling in a deep purple mass under the door. As soon as he reappeared the bolt in his crossbow with a single sheet of cream paper wrapped around it was spat from the weapon and punctured the shower screen, spider webbing the frosted glass door. It cracked a tile down the middle and the white square dropped to the floor of the stall and shattered, throwing grit and grout onto and under Piper's feet. The arrow embedded itself in the plaster.

Piper shrieked in outrage and embarrassment and turned, kicking open the door and covering herself with one arm, blasting with the other. The darklighter disappeared like smoke and the blast blew a chunk out of the wall and sent a towel floating to the floor in blackened tatters.

_**Learning to Tango**_

Chris orbed into the entryway, his sneakers almost immediately cracking on broken wood. Looking forward he spotted Ben on the floor, lying still. The witch-whitelighter's green eyes widened in shock and before he knew it he was on his knees beside his fallen friend. His fingers scrabbled for a pulse in Ben's wrist and he had to dig deep upon the cold flesh to find a faint, fluttering thread of life. It seemed almost to be beating out of Ben's skin and Chris quickly set to work, snapping the stake off and then gently levitating Ben off of the spear of banister.

A light groan escaped Ben's lip but the witch didn't wake. Chris looked to the ceiling and yelled for his father, urgency and fear tingeing his voice. He couldn't lose Ben as well, he couldn't… The Elder didn't appear and Chris got to his feet and took the stairs two at a time, bounding up to Wyatt's bedroom. He bumped into Piper on the landing, who had a white, fluffy towel wrapped around her body and another one acting as a turban for her hair and had just opened her mouth to be indignant and rant about the arrow wrapped in a towel in her hand when her youngest son sprinted back past her, clutching her infant but older —– God, this was headache-inducing stuff —– son to his chest. She whirled as Chris disappeared in a shower of orbs as he reached the corner. She realised that her mouth was open and closed it abruptly, cautiously following Chris's progress.

Clutching at the top of her towel she made her way gingerly down the first few steps, nearly falling into the entryway as she leaned on the banister and found her hands meeting nothing but empty air.

She gasped at the scene below her, shrinking back in horror from the growing pool of thickening crimson blood that was seeping from Ben. A huge, bloodied splinter of wood stood straight up in the middle of the floor and Ben was lying next to it, white as a ghost. Chris was trying to cajole Wyatt into healing his best friend, but Piper couldn't hear how he was doing it.

"Okay, Buddy. This is kind of important, right? Ben means a lot to Chris and Chris is going to be very sad if anything happens to Ben, so do you think you can heal him? For me?"

Wyatt looked at him blankly, chewing on two of his fingers. Chris looked straight back at the toddler, pleading silently with him.

"Wyatt, please. Do it for me?"

Wyatt blinked at his brother and Chris felt as if his skin were crawling with ants. He looked down at his hands and found that they were being consumed by orbs. The witch-whitelighter tried to cry out, but he was being forcefully dematerialised.

"Wyatt!" Piper chided, descending the stairs carefully, trying not to get splinters in her bare feet. She could have at least had the sense to get some slippers, she thought. "We've had this conversation! You're not to orb Chris ANYwhere!" Alas, it was too late as Chris already had disappeared. She didn't know why Wyatt was so fascinated with orbing Chris all over the place and as. S she finally navigated the staircase and realised that the entryway was just as big a minefield.

Wyatt looked blankly at his mother and murmured something into his fingers, looking at the ground. Blood was rapidly advancing towards the toddler's miniature sneakers and Piper urged herself forward, reasoning that Leo could always heal out the splinters later.

"Look, Wyatt," Piper began, crouching next to him. "I need you to do something really big and brave for Mommy, okay? You see Ben? Well, he's hurt. You think you can make him better?"

Wyatt blinked and turned towards Ben, still not taking the fingers out of his mouth. He held his other pudgy hand over Ben and a golden light began to surround the fallen witch. Piper knelt there and prayed that they weren't too late. It seemed to be taking a while, and Piper didn't want to push Wyatt to try harder. It wouldn't be fair on him and maybe, just maybe, Ben's body had been damaged beyond all repair…

The blood, which had been creeping nearer and nearer, was about to be drunk up by her towel when the red tide stopped, flowing, was flowing backwards slowly at first, and then faster and faster until it disappeared. Ben let out a shuddering gasp and sat bolt upright, his hands pressing to his stomach. He found no wound and sagged in relief, slowly lying back down onto the floor and groaning.

"Ow?" Piper asked, scooping Wyatt up and holding him close, kissing him on the cheek.

"Ow," Ben agreed, rubbing his head. "Where's Leo?"

"Leo?" Piper planted another kiss on Wyatt's other cheek. "Who's a good boy? Who is Mommy's wonderful little guy? Why do you ask?"

"He did this."

Piper was about to tickle Wyatt under the chin but she stopped. "What?"

"He… he was seeing things. Hearing things. Both. I don't know… He attacked me."

"No, that's, that's… that's ridiculous. He's _Leo_ for God's sake. He wouldn't _do_ that."

"Not even if something was leading him to believe he was protecting his family?"

Piper stopped and put Wyatt down next to her, sighing heavily. "Leo?"

The Elder didn't appear, not even when Piper yelled loud enough to startle Wyatt. She bit her lip and looked down from the ceiling into Ben's eyes.

Realisation dawned. "Oh my God. He did."

Ben only shrugged and looked to the floor

_**Learning to Tango**_

"WYATT!" Chris yelled as soon as he reappeared. He looked around him and discovered that he was in the attic. In Wyatt's playpen.

Chris grimaced as the side practically burst as he struggled to unfold his legs. He was sitting on something very hard and he shifted slightly, only to have Wyatt's fire truck stab his back with its ladder. The witch-whitelighter growled in frustration and was about to pull himself out using his arms when what seemed to be a huge, white, static spark jumped through his hand from the side of the playpen. He cried out in pain before realising that the whole thing was glowing a deep purple.

He tried to orb but he hit something and was tossed back down into the playpen and his body was consumed by frenzied orbs for the second time that day before they completely smothered to him, clinging and dragging him away.

**_Learning to Tango_**

**_Gah, 'Quick'Edit is being such an arse. It's getting thiiiiiiis close to getting on my shortlist of things to get Piper toblow up. _**

**_It's a week away from being a month since my last post-- sorry! But yeah, I expect you're as sick of reading that as I am of writingit, butit's all gah and big bad and gah again. Heh. I'm sitting here trying to learn an entire page of writing about Harry Potter -- in French no less -- so I can pass my oral exam on TUESDAY. Where did the time go? I want my youth back!_**

**_ANYHOO:_**

**Stony Angel: - Hey there. Glad I could make you smile, honey. And thank you so much! Happy me now. I'm going to smile and smile and smile some moreand wonder why the hell it's so damn hard to say 1986 en francais. Ciao!**

**Pixie Wildfire - Yay! It's you! Did I cover everything? Methinks so. Thank you!**

**Krissie - Hey, thanks a lot. Reviews make me happy, and I'm glad you're still liking this. Willow is my favourite too - although I loved evil Willow's attitude. She was great but then I'm an odd person. Thanks so much for your review - it's good to know you enjoyed my Buffy gamble!**

**FrostyRose333 - Thank you, and I love your pen name. I have a picture of an icy rose. It's all inspiring-like. Except as you can tell my brain has crawled out of my ear. Look, there it goes...Thanks for reviewing.**

**ilovedrew88: - Hey, thanks a lot! Lots of reviews, making me so happy. I'm glad you like it - blame my beta for demanding fluff. I can almost see her sitting there with her fingers in her ears pretending she's oblivious to up-and-coming events. Glad you liked the link too as I know links between the two shows are numerous with several different variations in the fic world.**

**chattypandagurl: - Reading this back I just realised that we don't see Bridget at all. ARGH. Heh. I guess this chapter might be missing her attitude, because it felt like something. Thanks so much for reviewing.**

**As Always: - Soon? I tried at least. Heh. Thanks for telling me which scenes you liked, it gives me a good inclination of where to go next. And thanks for reviewing! As always (heh) it means a lot to me.**


	14. Chapter 14

**GAH! Thanks to an incredibly eagle-eyed reader, it's come to my attention that I actually posted the very, very rough draft of Chapter Fourteen, the one sent to me Beta for editing. It still had her notes in at some points. So here we are. Hopefully grammatically better as well as everything else better. **

**If anyone else spots something stupid like that, you can tell me. In fact, please tell me. I don't bite.**

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Chris was momentarily blinded by the orbs swarming in front of his face. He had travelled many hundreds of times by orbing, but this felt nothing like it. It was a nasty, dragging sensation that had left him with no choice in the matter of where he ended up and he hated not having control. Moreover, it had left him feeling sick and disorientated. He blinked a couple of times, pressing the heels of his palms into his eyes, still seeing the weirdly purple-tinted orbing lights dancing across his vision.

He cursed fluently with a stream of obloquy he was , glad his mother was nowhere near to hear as his stomach lurched and he had to fight with himself not to vomit. This was travel sickness at its worst. By some weird coincidence, the fire truck that had been stabbing him in the back had managed to orb out with him and was still jabbing into his spine. He squirmed and swore again, flicking the toy across the floor with an annoyed gesture of his hand. The sirens wailed as it rocketed across the uneven stone before the truck hit a particularly large bump and overturned, skidded on its side and came to a halt, the wheels still spinning.

The air was cold around him and he could feel moisture on his bare arms. He shivered despite himself, looking up at the low, dark ceiling. It seemed to be pressing down on him with the weight of what looked like solid rock. Very solid rock. The witch-whitelighter pulled a face and tried to orb out from what appeared to be yet another demonic trap — God, didn't the stupid Underworld-dwellers ever give up? — but immediately an incredibly complex web of deep purple magic sprung up from some black crystals around Chris, forming a latticed dome. It reacted violently with Chris's orbing lights and threw the witch-whitelighter none-too-gently back down to the floor. He grunted, rolling over onto his back to stare at the ceiling.

Well, he should have seen that one coming. Despite the fact that none of his generation of Halliwells had inherited the extremely rare yet coveted gift of premonition from their bloodline, he still should have been able to see what was coming. He deserved to be zapped for not realising that orbing wouldn't work. The crystals were black, so they were well hidden, but still.

He closed his eyes for a moment, trying to force the adrenaline that being shocked had created out of his system and when he opened them he jumped in surprise, seeing a person standing over him; a pair of eyes looking down at him instead of the ceiling he had expected. Gradually the rest of the face came into focus and he was looking up at Gideon's bearded features and the Elder was looking down on him from above in a twisted version of a saviour.

"Gideon? What—?" Chris shook his head, sitting up. "Never mind. You couldn't give me a hand here, could you?"

The Elder just continued to look down on him as if he were something under a microscope slide, and Chris wondered if Gideon had actually heard him.

Tentatively, the witch-whitelighter tried again. "Gideon?"

"This is all wrong… This was never meant to happen…" Gideon mumbled as he straightened up, steepling his fingers and pacing the length of the subterranean stone room twice before spinning on his heel and coming to a conclusion. There was nothing he could do now. The brat was here; he knew who Gideon was and was probably on the way to working out his plan of attack….

Perhaps he could convince the boy that he was a shape-shifting demon? He mused on this for a while, frowning and staring at an empty patch on the wall. Yes, that may just work… But to convince the whelp that he was a demon he would have to make sure he didn't play nice. With a flick of his wrist the Elder sent the cage crackling to life. The network of power focussed in a spot above Chris, building brighter and brighter before descending, eliciting pained yells from the witch-whitelighter trapped within.

_**Learning to Tango**_

Bridget winced as the baby gave her a kidney shot. She was really starting to think that this baby _was_ the devil incarnate, or whatever it was destined to be, what with the number of times it had booted her in the kidneys in the last two days. She placed her hands protectively on her stomach despite herself and gently eased herself up from the rocking chair in her room. Rocking seemed to be the only thing the completely calmed the baby, but now her swollen ankles ached from all the to and fro motions she had been making. She stopped and the baby had kicked her. Well, at least the kid knew what it wanted without having been born yet, which was an admirable quality in itself. Hoping that this meant she was doing at least something right she walked around the room, straightening a picture on the wall which was slightly askew.

She worried to herself quietly as she ran a finger across the top of the frame, wiping the dust on her top, because it felt so alien to her to feel this confused. Hell, worrying was weird enough. She never worried. It was what all of her friends said about her — she would just do something without worrying about it or its consequences until they actually happened. But ever since this baby…

She was feeling so many emotions and recently she had begun to realise that some of them were actually the baby's. Frustration was a big one but then again she wasn't sure if that was the baby's frustration because his demonic powers were being suppressed by Magic School or her own frustration at being cooped up in here, being cosseted every day by people — namely Chris. She hadn't become an invalid when she got pregnant. She could still take care of herself. If there's one thing Bridget Vance hated it was being patronised. And people who made fun of her height. _Ben…_

The hunter walked around the room slowly, trying to get the child inside of her to settle down. He was restless recently, but perhaps that was just concomitant with her own feelings and nothing to do with the baby. She paced some more and made shushing noises absently, staring out of the window every time she walked past and tucking a strand of black hair behind her ear. She had scraped it to the nape of her neck in some resemblance of a bun this morning, and tendrils had been making their bid for freedom ever since.

At least Piper was coming soon. She would have some to gripe to or with about pregnancy; someone to ask whether what she was feeling right now was normal. Maybe she should go down to the library and see if any bejewelled magical text took her fancy? Why would anyone in their right mind waste rubies that size of hens' eggs on the cover of a mouldy old book? They must be completely insane. Perhaps she could get her nails under one of them and pry it out without the librarian or Gideon noticing? She pondered this for a moment before slowly and painstakingly making her way out of her room and into the deserted corridor.

_**Learning to Tango**_

Gideon had left Chris breathing heavily on the frigid floor of the Magic School dungeon. Hopefully future boy would now not think that the Elder had any connection to his kidnapping. Hopefully. Well, it wasn't like he could go anywhere and give anyone forewarning. He would wash his hands of the torture he had just performed, completely abnegate his responsibilities as a pillar in the world of good magic until Wyatt was dead and the world was safe. It was all for the greater good. He couldn't have either of the brats from the future stopping him eliminating Wyatt or getting to the girl acting as the Source's incubator.

He finished climbing the steps of the dungeon and turned, still seeing the witch-whitelighter crumpled in a heap of his magical cell. Showing not a shred of remorse, Gideon suddenly had an idea — one that would be incredibly entertaining. Reaching into one of the pockets of his robe her pulled out a crystal and tossed it down the stairs towards Chris.

Chris looked up shakily through blurred eyes, distrusting anything that had come from the hand that had hurt him. He swallowed as Gideon waved a hand at it, throwing a projection onto one of the dank dungeon walls. The witch-whitelighter frowned at the image as it came into focus on a short, dark-haired young woman. He realised that the scene was Magic School's library and, with artifice that could only be Bridget's, the young woman dug her nails under one of the precious gems adorning a book.

The scene suddenly cut to his mother scrying in the attic, one hand placed on her bump the other holding a circling scrying crystal. She was forcing it to circle wider and wider, and he realised with sudden guilt that she was looking for him.

The scene cut again to Ben and Paige, who were crawling around Phoebe's bedroom on their hands and knees, looking through the carpet fibres and occasionally talking. He looked up in confusion at his captor. This didn't make sense. Someone was watching them? Was it Gideon? Or was that even Gideon?

His head fell back to the floor as his arms gave out. There was a rousing burst of music from the crystal and he looked up to see two 'W's clash together and explode, forming the words _Witch Wars. _A golden athame spun into view halved the words. Chris looked up again, but the stairs were empty.

**_Learning to Tango_**orbed to the Games Masters' cavern.

Clea looked up as he Gideon reappeared in the control booth and sneered, then looked back down at the controls in front of her. Her fingers flew over the buttons and sliders and keys with the skill of someone well practiced in doing so. Gideon privately wondered how long the demons had been doing this undetected.

On a small monitor to Clea's left a shot of an empty room with a seat in it was flickering slightly.

Gideon pointed to it. "What's that?"

"Confessional Cave," Clea bit out. "It's where the gamers go to reveal their plans to the audience." She refocused on the sliding glass window in front of her, peering through with calculating eyes and watching Corr present, her fingers poised, ready to start again at any moment.

"How is the next round going to play out?" Gideon asked.

"Once the Charmed Ones have deciphered the note we're going to send some demons in to…" she paused, curling her lip at the pathetic idea, "steal something from the Manor."

"We're going to need more of a distraction than that," Gideon said grimly, quickly filling the demoness in about how his trap had not captured Wyatt but rather Wyatt's grownup brother and how he, Gideon, needed a large distraction to enable him to snatch Wyatt from their formidable grasp right out of the Manor.

When he was done Clea looked him up and down twice, snorted in contempt and spoke into a microphone too quietly for the Elder to hear. Across the room, Corr pressed an earpiece deeper into his ear as he listened.

_**Learning to Tango**_

Piper was fretting. Fretting and pacing and chewing on a nail and wondering why she ever bothered to pay for a manicure when she always ended up gnawing them off when she felt worried. And fretting.

Where was Chris? Where had Wyatt orbed him to? Wyatt's orbing had never yet managed to land anything outside of the Manor so far, but they had searched the house twice yelling Chris's name and it had come up a blank.

Right now, Paige and Ben were fingertip-searching the floors on the first story under her orders, in case Wyatt had shrunk his brother and his voice had been made to small for him to be heard.

She tossed a dark look at the abandoned scrying crystal on the table. It had helped them ridiculously little, not even hinting as to where Chris might be. She glared at it as it fractured the light into rainbows. Wyatt gurgled something on the baby monitor and she looked up at it, but the lights settled back down and she heard no more from him.

"Nothing. Not even the tiniest hint of a nephew," Paige announced, walking into the attic and shrugging, shoving her hands into the back pockets of her jeans.

"Did you try scrying with the note the darklighter left?" Ben asked Piper, who turned on her heel to look at him.

"Note?" Paige wondered, looking between Ben and Piper.

"We got attacked while you were gone," Ben said. "The darklighter left a note spliced to one of his bolts."

"I tried. It's no use."

Piper sighed and turned away from the other two, pacing the length of the attic again and running a hand through her hair. "I tried. It's no use."

"What does it say?" Paige said, walking over to the table on which the much-traduced scrying crystal lay and picking up the sheet of thick cream paper, looking at it. She frowned in confusion and turned it up the other way, and then flipped it over. The paper was a mass of black blobs, which had run over the page until no writing could be made out. It had seeped through onto the back and the paper was hardened and crinkled. "Huh?"

"The darklighter fired it at me while I was in the shower," Piper said. "And apparently they've never heard of indelible waterproof ink."

"Oh," Paige said, balling it up and tossing it back down onto the table. "Anyone for a Plan B?"

"Panic?" Ben suggested helpfully.

"Got that covered," Piper griped, chewing on a different nail. "Plan C?"

"No," Ben said flatly. "Unless…"

"Gonna need a little more than 'Unless'," Piper said, making a forward motion with her hand.

"Don't worry. It wouldn't work."

"What wouldn't work?" Paige asked curiously, looking at Ben.

Ben rolled his eyes, sighing, feeling stupid for mentioning it. Now they were going to waste time on it rather than actually using their ingenuity to find Chris, because the potion wouldn't work. But instead of finding some other way to find his best friend, they would pin all their hopes on his potion. "It's a potion. But it won't work because you need part of Chris. Blood or hair or _something_. And we don't _have_ any of him."

Piper thought the problem over for a while. "Has he not got a comb? Wait, that's a ridiculous question, isn't it? Or, or, some flakes of skin? Or fingernails? Has he bled on anything?" She was running the possibilities through her mind one at a time, trying to work out some way of getting hold of some of Chris's DNA.

"If we're looking for blood then the laundry hamper should be the first stop," Paige said dryly. "Everyone in this family bleeds on some item of clothing or the other every other day."

Piper looked up at her half sister and nodded, beginning to dole out orders. "Right, yeah… Paige, you go look in the laundry hamper and then downstairs in the laundry room if you can't find anything. Ben, get started on the potion, whatever it is. I'll go check your room, see if Chris has left a part of himself in there."

Paige nodded once and orbed out and Piper made for the stairs. Ben crossed the room to the ingredients cabinet and pulled out a bundle of dried tarragon, snapping a sprig in two and adding it to the heavy iron pot on the bottom shelf of the cupboard. He filled his arms with the burner and the pot and set them up on the table, pushing the map and crystal to the floor. He struck a match and lit the burner, shook it out and then added half the contents of a bottle of water next to him. Slowly, it began to heat up and he popped the top off a jar, pouring a handful of cumin seeds and tossing them into the pot. They bobbed up and down on the surface like tiny rowboats and Ben sighed, methodically pulling the petals from a dried yellow cowslip flower and dumping them into the lightly simmering water, unaware that he was being watched.

_**Learning to Tango**_

"Him?" Clea asked. "You want us to attack him?" She was looking into the monitor at Ben, who was stirring the bubbling potion in front of him.

"Yes. He isn't fundamental to the cosmic balance as the sisters are because he hasn't been born yet — nothing will be affected should something happen… which I trust you will do your best to avoid." Gideon was still quite against blood being spilt. Even if it was for the greater good. However, sacrificing one of the future interferers would not be detrimental to the cosmic balance because they would be born again. Even so he didn't want too many deaths on his hands. That may make the other Elders suspicious. He shifted uncomfortably. This was a pestiferous issue that was refusing to go away. It wasn't that it bothered him, no, it was the opposite — that the death of Ben really wouldn't bother him at all. And yet he called himself an Elder.

"So, there are rules with this as well?" Clea asked conversationally, probing subtly into Gideon's plan as well as pushing a slider up and tapping a few keys to bring Corr back from the commercial break.

"Of course," Gideon replied slowly, making sure he sounded as if he were warning her.

"Well, demons don't always play by the rules," Clea said lightly, implying deeper meanings. She wanted to see how far she could push Gideon, what his limitations were on these tasks. Obviously they couldn't hurt the Charmed Ones but this male witch? What would Gideon think if there was an… accident? A little blood spilt to get the ratings up? "What kind of rules? I mean I'm only asking jJust so we can make sure the demons _do_ play by them?"

Gideon looked her up and down acidly. "Try not to kill him," he said menacingly, before orbing out.

Clea smiled, the red light on the microphone blinking, showing that it was transmitting everything to Corr, who would already be introducing the new idea to the audience. Because they always thought alike… What an opening.

_**Learning to Tango**_

The surface of the potion was at a rolling boil now, and a splash leapt out and sizzled on the burner, the seeds the escapee potion contained bursting and popping.. Ben quickly turned it down and the tumultuous surface calmed slightly. The witch tossed in a bundle of knotgrass and poked it to the bottom of the pot with a ladle, and then sprinkled a pinch of cinnamon onto the bubbling surface. Finally he flicked a single mustard seed into the potion and it exploded, forcing him to step backwards a couple of paces, fanning at the air.

"Explosion means you're done, then?" Paige asked, walking back into the attic.

Ben looked up and was about to answer when a presage chill seized him, the hairs on his arms dragging raised Goosebumps from the skin.

"What's wrong?" Paige asked, taking a look at the potion.

"Nothing, just… must be standing in a draught…" Ben shrugged it off and turned the burner down again, dunking floating ingredients to the bottom of the pot with the ladle.

"So what is this potion going to do exactly?" Paige wondered, watching the knotgrass bubble as it was swallowed into the liquid's depths.

"It's kind of complicated. What it does is it looks at the human DNA that you drop in and then searches everywhere for an exact match to that DNA — i.e. the person it came from — and then transports you to them whatever plane, time or dimension they're on or in. Which is _really_ useful, what with the slipping in and out of timelines habit Chris has picked up. Luckily, it's not actually in your Book of Shadows, or you would have had Wyatt here in a flash…"

Paige gave a short, fond laugh and walked behind Ben, looking into the pot. The surface was lightly simmering, rearing up into slight splashes but not spilling out of its iron confines again. Ben looked distastefully at the patch that was burnt onto the burner and sighed slightly, knowing that he was going to have to scrape it off later or face Piper's wrath.

There was a noise behind him and he turned, seeing Paige testing the balance of an athame in her hand. She thrust once into empty space with it then tossed it into the air, snatching it mid-spin by the hilt.

"Paige, what are you doing?"

Ben's voice echoed around the dungeon and Chris squinted, crawling closer to the edge of his cage to get a better look. The crystal was on one of the uneven points of the floor, so the projection was slightly wonky. He cocked his head to one side with his eyes narrowed.

"Wait…" he murmured, sensing something not quite right with the picture but unable to put his finger on it. He watched as

Paige turned to him Ben in mild surprise and said,. "Just locking and loading," before the half-witch replied, tucking the weapon into the waistband of her jeans.

"Fair enough," Ben said absently, wondering where Piper was with the piece of Chris. It still sounded gross every time he thought about it, despite the fact that this was probably the fifth time he had had to make and drink this potion. "Was there nothing in the laundry hamper?"

"Hamper?" Paige questioned, walking back across the room. "Oh, right. Yeah, sorry. No, nothing useful in the hamper. We'll wait until Piper gets back and see what she's found."

Ben turned the heat as low as it would go, not wanting the potion to burn to the bottom of the pot and stirred it gently, keeping an eye on the flame in case the tiny flickering heat source blew out. The sodden knotgrass bubbled to the surface again and she pushed it to the bottom of the pot, the dying scream of air bubbles escaping lost as he started with surprise and dropped the ladle with a splash upon finding Paige's hand on his arm. He rolled his eyes. She had scared him. Gods, there should be laws made against doing that to people… He turned to Paige and smiled uncertainly at her, fishing the ladle from the concoction as he did so. His hand came back dripping with potion and as he wiped it on his jeans a voice floated into the attic from the stairs.

Both he and Paige looked up at the new arrival, who just shrugged and said, "I guess I was wrong. Chris didn't bleed on anything."

There was a moment of silence as Paige blinked at… herself standing behind Ben with her hand on his arm. Ben looked between the two identical witches in complete confusion. He had no idea which one to blast and his hand hovered in midair, first aiming at one Paige and then aiming at the other.

The silence was broken by Piper pulling herself up the stairs, relying heavily on the banister. "No luck in the bedroom. Did Paige have any luck with the hamper?" She looked up and it took a couple of seconds to register that there were two of her sisters in the room and she raised her hands, but she, too, didn't know which one to blast.

"Uh, hello? Demon?" The Paige standing behind Ben said, gesturing at the Paige by the door.

"Oh, as if!" The Paige by the door shot back angrily. She held out her hand and yelled, "LAMP!" The light orbed in the direction of Ben and the Impostor Paige.

The orbing lights were almost painfully bright to Chris, his eyes already having adjusted to the darkness of the dungeon. But he didn't look away as the lamp rushed ever closer to hitting Paige's double. He grinned to himself despite his situation — he'd known something was off.

Impostor Paige raised her free hand and scattered the orbing lights with a fireball, muttering, "Busted," and twisting the arm that she was resting her hand on behind Ben's back before he could blast her and using her other hand with startling speed to press the athame to Ben's neck.

"Huh," Ben said weakly, the cold steel point just ready to pierce his Adam's apple. His shoulder was screaming in pain and he was afraid to swallow in case the slight movement brought his throat anywhere closer to the blade. He'd seen many a person with a slashed jugular. It was never pretty.

"Don't move," Impostor Paige told them, "and no one gets hurt."

"Demons _always_ say that," Piper groused, "and guess what happens? Someone always ends up with a hole in them."

"Usually the demon," Paige added smugly.

Ben felt something odd, like a hot wind on his shoulder blades and he turned his neck slightly, just as the athame fell to the floor, narrowly missing skewering his foot. Free of Impostor Paige's grasp he turned fully and was just in time to see the last of her flaming death and something akin to bolts of electricity being sucked up the point and into the handle of an athame identical to Impostor Paige's and then the hand of the demon that was standing behind him.

Ben raised his hands to blast the huge brute demon that he recognised from the book but the power glanced off the demon's huge barrel chest and did no damage save for a scorch mark on the ragged waistcoat. The brute demon swept a huge arm out and caught Ben in the chest, sending him flying backwards into a chest of drawers, which spilled the contents of its top onto the floor and spat a drawer through the back of the piece of furniture. Splintering wood caused Wyatt to wake up and start crying and Piper, torn between her motherhood duties and her witch duties for not the first time, hesitated long enough to be blasted by an energy ball. She ducked instinctively, curling her arms around her stomach but the crackling orb still hit her, knocking her off her feet.

Paige yelled and waved her arm, orbing the couch behind Piper. It had barely materialised when the pregnant witch landed on it, drawing a cloud of dust from the piece of furniture that sent her into a sneezing fit.

"Uh… Athame!" Paige yelled, and Impostor Paige's fallen athame dissolved into an orb cloud and headed straight for the demon. The dagger was flicked aside by the demon brute as if were nothing more than a fly, and he conjured another energy ball to throw at Paige.

Piper blew the weapon up before it could leave the demon's hand as she struggled up from the sofa, relatively unscathed. The strength of brute demons came from their… strength and not their abilities with magical weapons. She hoped to the Gods that Chris was holding out inside her. She couldn't even think about losing him now, not after everything…

Ben was on his feet again, snatching up the dagger that Paige had failed with and jumping at the demon's back, hoping to get enough of an angle to push the knife through the demon's shoulder and into the heart. However, the blade met bone too soon causing the knife to jar and Ben fell to the floor, leaving the demon with nothing but a flesh wound.

The brute demon roared in anger, wrenching the knife out of its shoulder and turning to Ben, grabbing the witch around the throat and lifting him clean off the floor. Ben clawed at the massive hand as he choked and then raised his own hands, intending to blast the demon's eyes which seemed to be the only weak spot he could exploit. The demon, perhaps sensing Ben's future action, shook him like a doll and Ben's hands fell. Darkness began to appear at the edges of his vision, accompanied by a myriad of arcing colours. His oxygen-deprived lungs were screaming at him but his brain felt as if it were floating; he was getting so light-headed…

Behind the demon, Piper was deploying her power at the brute's back whilst Paige was orbing pieces of furniture at the demon's hulking form. It didn't seem to be having much effect and the youngest Charmed One's eyes swept around the room, looking for something, anything, that she could turn into a projectile.

Suddenly there was an orange flare on the other side of the room and Bridget appeared amidst a scattering of fiery orbs. "Hey. What's up?" She looked around the attic at the mess and then at the demon choking Ben and her face fell. "Oh."

_**Learning to Tango**_

Gideon orbed into Wyatt's bedroom, where the infant was screaming his lungs out. The Elder twisted his face into a smile and took two steps towards Wyatt, kicking toys out of the way as he did so. He stretched out his hands and was just about to pick Wyatt up when the child opened his crinkled eyes and saw him. Wyatt's shield sprung up, knocking Gideon backwards into a shelving unit full of stuffed toys. They rained down on him, some squeaking as the fell and the Elder cursed silently, tossing them across the room as he clawed his way from the heap.

Wyatt had stopped crying now and was looking at him oddly, his blue eyes still wet with tears. Gideon advanced on him again, crushing a toy car under his foot. He stepped over the totalled wreck of splintered plastic and reached Wyatt, his fingers already feeling unpleasantly hot the closer they got to the translucent blue bubble.

He took a deep breath and plunged his hands into it, nearly crying out from the searing pain as his skin blistered before his very eyes. His hands began to look like rippling boiling water and he pulled them back out, staggering backwards a few steps and holding them up, palms to him in the manner of a surgeon who had just scrubbed up for an operation.

His fingers were fattened and raw and he hissed as he reached inside his robes, the slight contact with the fabric sending pain jangling along his bloody nerve endings. His hand closed around empty air in his pocket and he realised that he had left the cursed athame at Magic School in his office. How could he have been so stupid?

He kicked a teddy at Wyatt but it bounced off the toddler's shield, its head lolling limply as it fell. Gideon growled in frustration and orbed out.

He'd get Wyatt. Even if he had to ask for another distraction, he'd get him.

_**Learning to Tango**_

Piper blasted the demon one last time and he finally turned to her, flinging an unconscious Ben into the wall. He would come back for the witch target later. He just wanted to make them pay first for hurting him. He knew he wasn't meant to harm the Charmed Ones but they seemed so weak — it would be easy and he would be famous; the new Source, even…

He advanced slowly, Piper's explosions just fizzling out on his chest. She blew up the energy ball that was slowly revolving in his palm but he formed orb after magical orb every time she used this tactic. She swallowed but her brown eyes remained steely.

"Energy ball!" Paige yelled, but before the ball could orb to her the brute demon casually backhanded an armchair at her, sending her crashing into the bookcase. She fell to the floor, groaning, with the chair pinning her legs. The energy ball reappeared, heading straight for Bridget. The hunter snatched it from the air and crushed it, but the demon continued his advance on Piper unawares.

All of a sudden, Piper swore she felt the floor quake for just a second as Bridget demanded in a deep, twisted voice that wasn't her own, "Stop."

The brute demon turned to face the black-eyed woman. He looked her up and down, taking in her petite size and the condition that she was in and sneered, powering an energy ball up and throwing it at her. It died on her chest with an explosion and she looked down at it.

"Hm… Ow. You want to play with fire? Well don't come whining to me when you get burned." Her black eyes then seemed to leap to life with orange flames, animated in a way that made the demon drop to his knees, resting his forehead on the rug.

"My Queen. Forgive me. I-I-I had no i-idea you were going to be h-here. I didn't even know you were still a-alive. I would have never pledged my loyalty to someone else if I-I had know that you… you were alive…"

"Are you done?" Bridget vamped haughtily, putting a delicate hand to her mouth to cover a yawn.

"Yes, Your Majesty."

Bridget looked down at him with disdain, the fire fading from her eyes but the total blackness still residing. She looked up at Piper and smiled but Piper had to force herself not to back away, reminding herself that it was only Bridget. There was something predatory about the smile — the way it couldn't ever hope to light up jet black eyes reminded Piper of the blank stare of a shark. Even the smile was starting to look vaguely shark-like and the Charmed One swallowed, sitting down on the couch Paige had orbed over earlier rather than backing away and admitting her fear.

"My Queen…?" The brute demon began uncertainly, bringing the attention back to him.

Bridget sighed and sniffed, adding a slight roll of her eyes. "Yes, very well. You may kiss my feet."

The demon made a noise but Bridget couldn't tell whether it was one of protest, confusion or just a random grunt, but she fixed him with her obsidian stare anyway and he quickly moved his head to kiss the heads of the fuzzy stuffed bunny rabbits stitched to the end of her slippers.

At the other end of the room Paige was just getting up, rubbing the back of her head and groaning. Also, with a hacking coughing fit Ben woke up as well, massaging his neck. Livid purple bruises were rising around his throat.

"Where's Chris?" Bridget wondered, turning to look at Piper. Once again, fear raked away at Piper's insides as she was forced to face down the familiar onyx Source stare.

"We don't know," Ben choked, before breaking off and rubbing his neck some more.

"You don't know?" Bridget asked, worry tingeing her voice. "Why don't you know?"

Piper thought she could see the tips of flames licking from Bridget's tear ducts and got up, her hands out to placate the Hunter. "It's okay. We've got a potion. We just need part—" Piper stopped, looking at Bridget's stomach, and then putting her hands on her own. "—part of Chris. We need part of Chris and we've got it right here."

"Huh?" Paige said, her forehead crinkling into a slight frown.

Piper was about to explain when the brute demon narrowed his eyes and lifted his head slightly, looking around the room. Why was the Source associating with these people? The Charmed Ones? Who had destroyed three Sources before this one?

Again, Piper was sure she felt the floor tremble as flames erupted across Bridget's ebony eyes and she weakly sat back down on the sofa, just as Bridget's voice boomed through the attic.

"Did I tell you to stop?" She shouted at the demon. The athame in the demon's hand suddenly flared into flames and appeared next to Bridget, the tip a searing blue hot. She looked at it and flames devoured it again, suddenly making it vanish from view. And then the demon was clutching at his chest, screaming. Fire consumed him and then, with a yell and an explosion, he was vanquished. The athame dropped to the floor, electricity crackling around the blade and up into the handle.

"Is it safe to come out now?" Ben croaked, looking in awe at his friend.

Bridget sighed satisfactorily, her eyes returning to brown. "Yup." She dusted her hands together and sat down on them on the armchair, waiting for someone to talk.

"Bridget…" Paige said, blinking and swallowing hard, completely stumped for words. "That was… Wow…"

"Bridget, I need your finger," Piper said briskly, walking over to a mannequin in the corner and plucking a pin from it. It would be better if she didn't focus on what Bridget — or rather her grandchild — had just done. That would only add to the worry, and there was only so much a pregnant woman could take…

"Why?" The Hunter chirped, smiling at Piper.

"Because for this potion to work we need some of Chris, right? Well, where better to find some of Chris than in himself and in his child?"

Ben's eyes suddenly lit up with newfound hope and he pulled himself from the floor and strode over to his potion. Luckily, the fighting had not disturbed it and he turned the burner back to life, heating it up again.

Piper closed her eyes, the pin hovering millimetres from her index finger. She screwed up her face and plunged it in, drawing a crimson bead to the surface of her flesh. She shook her finger slightly and the drop rolled off, falling into the potion and disappearing. It slowly began to turn blue. Bridget came over to the table and pricked her thumb, dripping the blood into the pot. The potion exploded again and Bridget, Piper and Ben were knocked off of their feet in different directions.

"Forgot to mention that," Ben said sheepishly, pulling himself up from the floor.

"Yeah, well, no harm done and all," Bridget said dryly, glaring at her friend.

The potion had turned deep blue and Ben used the ladle to pour some into a large vial. He corked the lid with his thumb and then shook it, watching the liquid slosh about against their transparent confines.

"Now—"

Whatever Ben had been about to say was lost as a darklighter black orbed in on the other side of the attic with her back to the door. Piper flicked her wrists at her but she rolled easily, her black cloak moving around her like water rather than cumbersome material. Piper's power blew a gramophone to pieces just as the darklighter snatched the athame from the pile of ash that was the slain brute demon and grasped its hilt tightly, bolts of electricity surging from the handle into her wrist.

"Thanks for that," she said, quirking at eyebrow at the group. She then conjured an energy ball in her hand and threw it at them. They all dived out of the way and it hit the table, blowing it in two and sending blue potion cascading onto the floor. Glowing cinders of ingredients fluttered down to turn white and die on the sodden rug.

Piper blew a mouthful of hair out of her face and cried indignantly, "Since when have darklighters had energy balls?"

The darklighter twisted her lips into a pityingly smile and gave a small laugh. "Haven't you figured it out yet?"

"The athame," Ben finally said, looking at her fingers curled around the handle. "The athame absorbed the others' powers and now she's absorbed them from the athame."

"Ah, such a clever little witch," she mocked, "and not bad looking, either. The cameras really don't do you justice, you know. I'd complain to the management, if I were you."

"Cameras?" Paige asked, cocking her head slightly to one side.

"Oh, you'll find out soon enough," the darklighter said airily with a smirk, enjoying toying with them..

"If you know what's good for you, lady, you'll turn around and dark orb that fat ass of yours right back down to hell," Bridget said forebodingly, curling her lip and looking murderous.

The darklighter looked her over and laughed. "Fat? Glass houses and stones and all of that, you sow."

Ben grinned, a frisson passing through his body. "Did you just say what I thought you just said? Because that really, really wasn't a good idea. Seriously."

The darklighter looked him up and down coldly, curling her lip. "When I want your opinion, I'll give it to you."

Beside Ben, Bridget was practically vibrating with fury. Finally, she exploded, unleashing her wrath that had made many a demon quail. "Fat! FAT! I am not fat you brainless BITCH. I am PREGNANT, I'll have you know!" Bridget ignited a fireball in her palm and threw it as hard as she could at the darklighter. It hit her full on in her chest and set her catapulting backwards into the wall, wrenching a light fitting from the ceiling as she went.

She landed with a crunch of broken china and glass and a shower of sparks, but she wasn't dead. Bridget's eyes glinted, furious. Her pupils began to dilate until they had swallowed up her entire eye sockets and she summoned another fireball, which reflected in her eyes just as a swoosh of flames rushed over them. She threw the fireball at the fallen darklighter, who black orbed out. The ball of flames annihilated the wall, blowing wood and plaster everywhere.

Bridget turned, her nostrils flaring just as the darklighter reappeared with her loaded crossbow and fired three bolts in rapid succession. Piper froze hers before it could hit and Paige orbed hers harmlessly into a stack of cardboard boxes but Bridget walked deliberately into it. The arrow crumbled into ash before it could pierce her flesh.

"Your bloated corpse is going to be FAT," Bridget snarled. "You hateful WHORE!" And with that Bridget flung three fireballs at the darklighter, who black orbed out again. Piper whimpered and threw out her hands, freezing the fireballs in place before they lost another wall. They really couldn't deal with that kind of draught.

The darklighter black orbed in behind Bridget, firing an arrow solidly between her shoulder blades. Bridget stiffened, gasped, then fell forward onto the rug and lay unmoving.

Stunned silence reigned in the room for a while, before Ben growled in anger. . "You have no idea what you've just done," he snarled, his eyes taking on a maniacal gleam of their own as he fired a stream of jagged ice shards at the darklighter, which were annihilated with an energy ball. Chunks of frozen water fell to the floor, bouncing one or twice on the wood.

"Look out!" Chris yelled at the projection, feeling sheepish when he realised that no one could hear him.

Ben raised his arm to attack again but the darklighter tossed an energy ball at Paige and it took him by surprise. The witch-whitelighter was thrown out of the door and down the attic stairs. The darklighter feinted towards Piper and made it looked like she was going to throw an energy ball at the oldest Charmed One but then at the last second she spun and threw it at Ben, narrowly missing flinging him out of the door as well. He hit the wall hard next to the door and slid to the floor.

Piper flicked her hands at the darklighter but the power wasn't doing anything. It wasn't even glancing off her like it had with the brute demon. She barely remembered what happened next because her mind was screaming at her, bouncing around one thought inside her skull..

_No, not Chris… Please, Gods, not Chris…_

She took an energy ball to the abdomen and was hurled backwards into a stack of cardboard boxes, which poured down their contents all around her. As the chinks of light were swallowed by a deluge of cardboard, her mind went black as well.

Satisfied, the darklighter walked slowly across the room to where Ben was rubbing the back of his head and trying to get the attic to focus by repeatedly screwing his eyes closed. She looked up to the ceiling and smiled, using her fingers to wave and then kissing two of them and blowing it towards the hidden camera before seizing Ben by the hair and dark orbing out with him.

_**Learning to Tango**_

Corr grinned at the camera and flourished with his hands to where the darklighter was going to appear next. She black orbed in on the spot with Ben in tow, who she threw to the floor. She then curtsied, knowing that she was being silently lionised by the viewers and revelling in the attention. She blew another kiss into the camera and smiled.

"As the only survivor from the last round, Bronwyth has won the prize — the witch." The camera panned down to focus on Ben, who was lying on the floor, trying to recover from that last hit with an energy ball and the blow to his head. Everything seemed to get getting farther and farther away — sounds were echoing and his vision was dimming…

He was suddenly back handed across the face and that helped to bring the cavern back into view and he shook his head, blinking. He groaned and then tried to jerk his arms out of the unforgiving grasp of his captor but she tug her talon-like fingers into his wrists and he gasped in pain as she finished tying his hands together, rendering his powers useless. He'd been hovering on the precipice of unconsciousness for so long he hadn't even realised what she was doing.

"But…" Corr began, and the darklighter looked sharply upwards.

"But? There was no 'buts' in my contract," she snapped, glaring at the games master.

"This is a good but," Corr explained, both to the camera and the darklighter.. "but Tthe but is simple. I that, if you can get past the Charmed Ones again to bring the girl you shot back as a prize, you can keep the witch _and_ a mystery prize."

Bronwyth looked up at him, thinking for a while. Not willing for her all-too-brief stint in the limelight to be over she nodded. "I'll do it."

Corr smiled. "However… If you fail we offer this witch as well as the mystery prize to one lucky audience member," Corr said, looking directly into the camera. "And that could be you. So stay tuned to Witch Wars."

Clea cut to a commercial break and the title screen flared into life on the monitors around them.

"I'm not going to fail," Bronwyth said arrogantly, flicking her hair back over her shoulder. "But I don't see why you want the girl. She's dead — I sensed whitelighter in her and shot her."

"Yeah, in the back," Ben muttered darkly from the floor.

"Shut up, you," Bronwyth snarled, nudging him with her foot. "Can we do something with him? Please?" Two demonic stage hands grabbed Ben under the arms and dragged him off. "Thank you!" The darklighter called, just as Clea started counting down the time until they went live.

"Never be too certain," Corr told her. Welcome back. Remember, you're watching Witch Wars. "Let's take a peek into the Charmed One's attic, shall we?" Corr said, waving a hand at the camera as Clea cut the camera in front of him and cued a full screen shot of the attic. Corr, Bronwyth and Ben, off camera for now, turned to watch it on one of the plasma television screens.

In the attic, a hand reached its way from in between a stack of cardboard boxes. Its wrist emerged next, surrounded by a tattoo. It gripped one of the boxes, the tendons straining against the flesh but this caused more of them shifted, crushing the hand. The pile stopped moving.

All was silent and Corr was about to get Clea to cut back to him lest the viewers lose interest in the proceedings when orbing lights brought Wyatt into the attic. He was whimpering again and looking around the room desperately. Finding no one comforting there he began to cry loudly, and the hand started clawing at the cardboard boxes again. Wyatt looked at it steadily and then blinked, and his mother orbed out of the mess to stand next to him.

She wobbled slightly, unsteady on her feet, and then picked him up, kissing the top of his head and cradling him to her chest. He had probably been woken up by the noise of the fight and had been scared when no one had come for him. She shushed him, bouncing him gently and eventually he began to stop crying so Piper walked across the room, putting him in his playpen.

She passed Bridget, whose eyes were open and staring unseeingly at the floor. She averted her gaze, not knowing how much more pain she could take today. She also covered Wyatt's blue eyes with her hand as she walked past. What would Chris think? Bridget and his child, gone… He would be devastated. And he may never forgive her for what had happened. She didn't even know if she could forgive herself, but she fought away tears for Wyatt's sake and arranged his blanket over the mesh side of the playpen so he couldn't see anymore of Bridget's body and then stroked his hair lovingly.

The realization that she had also lost her grandchild had yet to truly sink in.. That would probably come later, when she was alone. Everything was slowly falling apart at the seams — she had been looking forward to being a young, trendy grandmother. And now that had been taken from her. By a _darklighter?_ How was that fair? (I dunno… work with something like this)

"You play there while Mommy goes and does some grownup things with Aunty Paige, okay?" The Charmed Ones cooed, crossing to the stairs and peering down. Paige was lying in a crumpled heap at the bottom, blood leaking from her mouth. Piper gasped and started down the stairs immediately. She had numerous bruises all over her body, but suddenly they all paled in comparison to a wrenching,y, her numerous bruises had been causing her multiple pains in several areas of her body, but they were suddenly accompanied by a sharp pain in her abdomen. Fear gripped her and all of her other aches were forgotten as she bent over and then gripped the banister, he knuckles turning white as she sunk to the steps, gasping in pain.

_No, not Chris… Please not Chris…_

She cried out again, doubling over and wondering if she was going to be sick. She couldn't lose Chris, please no… Hot tears pricked at her eyes and she rocked back and forth, riding out another wave of pain. This couldn't be happening — how could she be losing her son?

In the attic, Bridget suddenly took a deep breath inwards and floated back to her feet, pulling the bolt from between her shoulder blades and throwing it to the floor, wiping her hands on her maternity jeans. She waved a hand over her face and suddenly the wounds were healed, including the gaping hole in her back.

She looked around the attic and heard faint sobbing from the stairs and walked to the door and looked out at Piper doubled over in pain on the stairs and Paige lying on the first floor hallway's floor, her arm folded underneath her and blood leaking from her mouth and nose.

"Piper?" Bridget tried gently, starting on the stairs.

"Bridget!" Piper squeaked in disbelief, turning her red-rimmed eyes on her. "I thought—" The witch broke off as another pain seized her abdomen and she cried whimpered, doubling back over again.

"Piper, what's wrong, what's happening?" Bridget asked desperately, scrambling down the stairs to be at Piper's side. She gently rubbed the witch's back in circles, her brown eyes searching for an answer.

"Chris…" Piper began but pain and grief took over again and she began to weep openly into Bridget's arms.

Bridget felt her heart beat faster and her mouth go dry. Chris… She couldn't be a mother on her own. She'd be bad at it. She'd leave the baby to roll off the sofa, or forget to bring it when she was going out, or drop it, or… "They're not killing Chris that easily," Bridget told her unequivocally, straightening up and waving her arm, florbing Piper and Paige into the attic.

Her hands were trembling with fear as she made her own way up the attic steps, and she realised that it was her whole body that as shaking, not just her hands. She took some deep breaths in to calm herself but couldn't stop quivering. And she felt kind of faint and there was a strange coldness emanating from within her and she shivered, but then pushed it aside over her fears for Chris. Piper couldn't be having a miscarriage. Not now. She couldn't lose him; not after everything. Not after all they'd managed to come through together. She wasn't a strong enough person to raise this kid on her own, she didn't know how…

And she loved him.

Rapidly, golden light began to erupt from her body, blasting into every corner of the attic until even Bridget had to hide her eyes from it. The radiance shone strongly, beams of it penetrating everywhere, spilling out of the open attic door and glowing at the window. She risked a look from under her lashes and saw everything bathed in a brilliant yet soft yellow glow. She gasped in wonderment, feeling power thrum through her as everything took on a healing aura and then she was forced to close her eyes again as another blinding flash surged through the attic, building brighter and brighter until it was suddenly just gone.

When she had managed to convince herself that her child hadn't just caused a nuclear holocaust she opened her eyes a tiny bit, seeing the attic just as it had been that morning. Blasted and splintered furniture had repaired itself, blue potion had been lifted from the rug and the cauldron and ingredients righted on the table. The scattered books were back on the bookcase and Paige woke with a start, not a mark on her body.

Piper looked up, the pain gone. There were still tears drying on her cheeks but suddenly everything was well. Chris rolled over in her stomach as if the past few minutes hadn't happened at all. The witch

gasped in wonderment at Bridget, seeing an expression that surely mirrored her own on the Hunter's face. Bridget looked down at her swollen stomach in awe , and then stroked it gently, her amazement blocking out the cold feeling that was creeping through her veins.

"I—" She was about to elaborate when, out of the blue, pains like she had never felt before seized her and dealt her several dizzying blows and she yelled, staggering backwards to land on the sofa. "Piper…" she said weakly between deep, steadying breaths, "I… I think that baby's coming." She swallowed. "Now."

_**Learning to Tango**_

**_This was finished and ready for posting on the 28/05/05. But has been down for such a long time. Grumble. So that's why it's so late. They appear to have fixed the problem while I was sleeping, though, so they can't be all bad…_**

_**Your reviews are what inspire me to write more. I love every single one of them because it makes me happy to know that there are people still there even after a month or two (heh). So thank you to all of you.**_

**_I don't know how long this is going to turn out to be — probably less than twenty chapters, I should think. Bridget's labour and the consequences should probably take up one, the events after another one… And we'll go with another one after that, just to be safe. That's… seventeen? And maybe two for the ending? And what the hell, we'll throw in another one just in case I get wordy. Heh. And then, that'll be all folks. Sniff…_**

**FrostyRose****: - Hey! Thanks for reviewing. Jump? Where are ya jumping too? I hear Jupiter's nice… Except for that whole lack of atmosphere thing… Hm…**

**Pixie Wildfire**** - See! She's there! And we KNOW what we have in store for Bridget… Heh. **

**Stony Angel****: - Heh! Yes, I know. I subscribe to a Word of the Day e-mail from so that sometimes I get a little carried away with long words that I like. But there we are. Thank you for reviewing, hun. As always, it means a lot to me.**

**ilovedrew88****: - Here we are. Actually, I guess Piper never made it to Magic School did she? Heh. Got a tad preoccupied along the way. Oops. Thank you for reviewing.**

**minimonkey89: - I know! I scary, all powerful baby but still. Creepy. Anyways, thanks for your review. I really liked it. It amused me for some reason. But then I am easily amused because I have a veeeeeery small brain…**

**chattypandagurl****: - Ah, Leo. I'd nearly forgotten about him. A little birdie told me he's being _very_ unElder-like. Uh-oh, Spaghetti-Os… I like Spaghetti-Os…**


	15. Chapter 15

_**Yes, it's been a while, and yes I'm really sorry. But there were niggles and stuff in here that took a while to iron out. Especially seeing as I don't know how to use an iron. Cough. Anyway, it DID turn out rather long in compensation (we got to twenty-five pages. Oops) so hopefully that's some good for you.**_

**_For Jo — because you're you and because I can._**

"She can't be giving birth now!" Piper said, pacing across the attic and gesturing to Bridget, having to stop herself from shrieking. She ran a distracted hand through her hair. This was too much. This was all way too much all at once and she wasn't sure how she was coping. _If_ she was coping. No, she was coping. She had to cope; she didn't have a choice whether to cope or not. She wasn't allowed to freak out — that was a right taken from her three years ago. "Her waters haven't broken!"

"Spontaneous breakage of the waters at the beginning of labour only happens in five to ten percent of cases," Paige recited automatically, propping Bridget up on some cushions on the couch. Piper blinked in surprise while Paige looked up, looping hair behind her ear. "What? You think I just _pretended_ to study to be your midwife?"

"Oh. Well, no, but—"

"You'd think you'd be more sympathetic, considering the time you decided to let Wyatt drop out," Paige said, fixing her sister with a wry look. "I'm going to go and get some towels and maybe some water. I'll be back in a bit."

As her sister orbed from the attic, Piper swallowed and tentatively approached Bridget. She had dim recollections of the day she had given birth to Wyatt. It had been clouded by fear and pain and then relief, but she still remembered the gist of it. Would this happen with Bridget, but the opposite? What if the baby arrived and a guy with horns and a pitchfork and cloven hooves raced up on his flaming chariot? Paige was right, though. Babies just… came. _They_ picked the time and place, not the Mommies, no matter how much they begged and pleaded and screamed.

Bridget gave a breathless laugh and Piper looked down at her. "Heh. The way Paige is acting, anyone would think I was… having this thing here." She laughed again, but it faded at the sight of Piper's face. "Oh, no. No, no, no, no, no. I need to… go to the hospital. And—" Another contraction overtook her and she yelled in pain, gripping the arm of the sofa tight enough to snap the wood hidden under the fabric. "Well," Bridget panted, "I guess my strength is… coming back."

_San Francisco was big. And scary. And very big. Bridget made uncertain steps down the sidewalk. She didn't think she'd been here before — it didn't look like any of the streets she had ever been to, and certainly not the one with the ice-cream place she had wanted to go to. It had always seemed so simple when her mom had been there to follow but she couldn't see the red outside anywhere. It _had_ to be around here somewhere._

_But she didn't know where Here was. If she knew where she was then she could be at Dairy Queen right now, but she didn't think this was the street, because Dairy Queen was the street with KB Toys on it, and there wasn't a KB Toys anywhere near here. She'd definitely notice that if there was._

_She pouted defiantly, not wanting to admit defeat. She thought ingenuously that maybe if she got to the end of this block and turned around the corner she'd see Dairy Queen and would be able to get some ice-cream. _

_Maybe she shouldn't have run away, she thought, as her path took her further and further into less and less desirable parts of the city. Maybe if she'd just stayed in her room where she'd been sent she would have got some ice-cream anyway. These forlorn thoughts trundled through the mind of nine-year-old Bridget as she looked up at a neon sign that was turned off saying '_Motel'_. Whatever a motel was._

_The further she walked away from where Dairy Queen should have been, the more the paving slabs started to jut out and wobble as she walked carefully over them, letting them lead her into what was probably an older, scarier part of town. She could hear a Police siren in the distance but she held herself up to the full extent of her tiny height and resolutely walked forwards. Maybe she should just go home, and then maybe her mommy would take her to Dairy Queen. She suddenly wanted her mother very much and a pang hit her. She wouldn't mind if her mother pinched her cheeks like her grandmother sometimes did, even though it hurt, and she wouldn't even mind being told to put her shoes on the rack where they belonged. If only she were here…_

_She looked around and saw another sign for a motel and some signs saying '_Bar'_ that were stuttering to life behind grimy windows. She shivered a little. If she had been out with her mom then her mom would have made her take a sweater. She wished she had a sweater because it was cold, and starting to get dark…_

_**Learning to Tango**_

Chris's breath hitched in his throat as Bridget's cries echoed around the cavern. She was having their baby and he was stuck here, detached from the entire situation and only able to watch helplessly on nothing more than that damn crystal. He could feel the magic of the cage thrumming as he got dangerously close to the perimeter but he didn't care. He wanted to be as near to Bridget as he could possibly get and if that risked a shock, then so be it.

He hated this. He vowed to hunt and kill whoever had dumped him here and whoever had sent the demons after Bridget. She could have _died_. He wasn't sure whether he should be looking for Gideon or not, because, sure, the guy _looked_ like Gideon, but Chris had first-hand experience of the pain the guy was willing to inflict he didn't think an Elder would do that, unless, of course, he was a rogue Elder. The witch-whitelighter scoffed at himself. A rogue Elder. Yeah, that was going to happen.

But if it did…

His train of thought was a little complicated and was clattering around on a circular track inside of his head, not really going anywhere. He mulled it over for a while. It was possible. Anything, technically, was possible. Some things were just less possible than others, that was all.

Okay, then. Suppose Gideon _had_ gone evil. What for? What would it achieve? There had to be a reason behind why Gideon had suddenly turned like this.

Turned.

Turned . . . TURNED! Chris felt like a jolt had shot through his brain at the word and he actually checked to make sure he was nowhere near the cage's perimeter. Wyatt had been turned, and he was here to find out by whom so he could stop it from happening. He had always assumed it was a demon, but what if, somehow, Gideon had been turned? What if, with the change, he had set his sights on Wyatt because, well, he didn't like the power that Wyatt had and felt he had to get rid of it? Or wanted Wyatt's power for himself? Or something. It didn't really matter _why_, just as long as Chris knew how and when. And therefore could stop Gideon.

He was buzzing with this new information and was suddenly intent on escaping again. He used his power to move the fire truck towards him, as it hadn't actually gone out of the circle of crystals before. Putting every ounce of energy he had into it, Chris threw the toy as hard as he could towards the edges of his prison, but it stopped in midair and was shocked. He shied back a little from the sparks, holding up an arm to protect his eyes.

Eventually, it clattered to the floor slightly charred and with melted rubber wheels. Chris telekinetically hurled it at his now-dormant cage. Again, it was held in midair and zapped before smashing to the floor. The plastic windscreen had shattered and the ladder on the top was bent.

His jaw was set as he tried one more time, throwing it at the cage and holding it there, forcing it to take the entirety of the crystals' magic and not fall with his power. Suddenly, it exploded in a hail of plastic red shards. Chris formed an invisible telekinetic dome around him long enough to forcibly repel any pointy remaining debris.

He really hoped that hadn't been Wyatt's favourite toy.

Chris watched sullenly as his aunt orbed down to the kitchen for hot water and Piper tried to comfort Bridget. He felt so helpless and wanted to _do_ something, but he knew fully well that there was nothing he could do. He was stuck here.

And then, quite suddenly, he wasn't.

_**Learning to Tango**_

"Piper, you're not getting this," Bridget told her, her hand still clenching around the couch's broken arm. "I need to go to the hospital," she said though gritted teeth. "NOW."

"We can't get you to the hospital," Piper reiterated, almost wringing her hands. "This baby is part evil. What if it comes out throwing fireballs?" She remembered her own fears of Wyatt being born swaddled in orbs (which he had, come to think of it) and exposing magic. Those fears had been justified, so who was to say that Bridget's baby wouldn't do the same?

"I'm EARLY!" Bridget reminded her with a growl. "Almost two. Frigging. MONTHS. Early! This is not normal, even if the baby was remotely normal. This can't be happening!"

Piper plumped Bridget's cushions some more. "I'll call Phoebe. She and Paige are trained for this. They'll get you through just fine," the oldest Charmed One cooed, smoothing the creases in the pillow absently and yet fastidiously, knowing that if she stopped doing something and _thought_ about what was going on she'd probably panic. And she was the rock; the rock that everyone took for granted, yes, but she was the rock that everything was built on and if she fell into the sea of frenzy and became hysterical then everything else was going to slide was well. And then what would they do? Don lifejackets, probably. Buy a speedboat. She'd seen the cutest rubber ring for Wyatt in a shop window the other day…

She continued straightening the creases on the cushions, pinching and tucking and forcing the material straight. There was another sharp snapping noise as Bridget cried out and squeezed the sofa again, breaking another hidden piece of wood.

_Maybe if she could take a shortcut down an alleyway she could get home quicker? She quickly debated this move and decided to go for it. It was, in all actuality, very hard to scare Bridget. The black-haired child was very rarely frightened of anything. She had her small aluminium softball bat in plain sight for when she went to bed, just in case the monsters people talked about were real. Well, they'd be real dead if she and her bat had anything to do with it._

_Her babysitter used to give her a free reign of the TV while she kissed her boyfriend and did other odd stuff because it kept Bridget quiet. What her babysitter didn't know was that the only things her charge liked to watch after her bedtime during primetime were horror movies because everything else was boring, grownup TV. Screams and people-eating zombies wandering around were fun, even if she didn't really know what was happening, only pretended to._

_Desensitised, people called her. It was a long word and her mind just brushed over it because it was a boring grownup word that was used on the boring grownup television that she didn't like. 'Weird' had more meaning to her, but then again she liked being weird. Weird was what kept people from demanding your milk money, and weird was what was going to take her down the alley._

It was funny, she thought, the things she was reflecting on between contractions. They were still quite far apart, but not far apart enough. She could deal with one now, and then perhaps another one next week sometime. It was kind of ridiculous, to be honest, Bridget thought, feeling sweat run down her face. To be thinking of that after so long… And yet, she sure as hell wouldn't be here today if she hadn't tried to find her way home through that alley. That was a given.

You know, maybe that wasn't such a bad thing. If she hadn't gone down that alley, she would've ended up like the hunter in San Diego who was gutted alive by some blind monk guys working for evil. It was odd, the things they put in the hunter manuscripts. You would think that they would put comforting things in there, such as how they were all guaranteed to live to a ripe old age. That would be a better image to go into a fight with rather than envisioning herself with her guts hanging all over her pretty, shiny boots…

Piper was teaching her breathing techniques. She didn't want to know. She knew that all of this breathing stuff was a myth so women wouldn't know that they wanted lots of and lots of painkillers until it was too late for them to be given to them. That way, the hospitals saved on orders.

_'Where are you, Chris?'_Bridget thought desperately, her body tensed and waiting for another contraction.

_**Learning to Tango**_

Ben was flirting dangerously with unconsciousness. It was always there, niggling at him and he wasn't sure, sometimes, if he'd actually been awake the entire time. He doubted it, somehow, when he considered that there was itchy blood congealing on the back of his head, matting his hair together. He'd probably got a concussion. He'd possibly cracked a few ribs as well, but wasn't what was bothering him.

The cell he was in was barely big enough to contain him. It wasn't wide enough to lie down, but would be just about long enough to achieve it, not that he had tried. He didn't feel up to moving so he sat slumped against the wall, his toes practically touching the wall opposite.

He had been trying to make an astral copy of himself but wasn't having any luck. He hurt too much to even think about astral projection, and when he tried too hard, he stopped being able to remember things, which is when he thought he might have blacked out. He didn't know. He didn't think anyone knew.

He twisted the ropes binding him sluggishly, but they were tied tightly and chafing his wrists with every movement. He wasn't even sure if he remembered them being tied. Maybe he did. With the camera and the darklighter…

As much as he wanted not to, Ben gave up trying to free himself. It was lethargy that was fettering him anyhow, not the ropes.

He thought he was hallucinating at first. Or at best, just seeing spots brought on by having his head smashed into a very solid wall. But then more and more lights grew and he knew he wasn't seeing things as the spots merged into one.

_**Learning to Tango**_

Another contraction had come and gone, forcing Bridget to decide that it was high time she listened to Piper and her breathing techniques. She'd do just about anything to help her ride the pain out. Anything… Ugh, where was Nixa to knock her out again? Sure, it would hurt a little more than an epidural, but not _this_ much, surely? Sure, she was a hunter. Sure, she needed to be able to deal with pain (thoughts of being thrown through a concrete wall came into play here) but _this_ much pain? For _this_ long? This was unreal. It was ridiculous. And she was hurting. She didn't think she would ever _truly_ hurt, and yet…

Paige was sponging her forehead, face and neck with a cool, damp washcloth. They had changed her into a nightgown, much to Bridget's protests. It wasn't until Piper had given her nasty images about giving birth in her jeans that she had relented and allowed the lace… _thing_ to be put on her.

She smiled tightly, copying Piper's breathing. The Charmed One was hampered slightly by her own tumid stomach, but she still managed to kneel on the floor and help Bridget through it. The only thing she hadn't offered was a hand to squeeze; she didn't feel like her hand going the same way as the arm of the couch.

The nearing percussion of heels muffled on the stair carpet made the three women look up expectantly as Phoebe entered the attic, clutching her phone in her hand.

"Paige, your message got kind of garbled. I think I need a new cell. Something's wrong with Bridget's baby? And Chris had been kidnapped? And something about Ben, too, and OH MY GOD!"

"Skipped lunch in favour of a latte, did we?" Piper asked her sister. Phoebe seemed to be a little more hyped up than usual. Caffeine on an empty stomach did that to a person. Not that she'd know. She'd been drinking nothing but herbal tea for months now, despite the fact that her son had grown up to be as dependant on the stuff as the rest of the family. Sometimes, she didn't know why she bothered.

"I asked for decaf," Phoebe told them defensively, "but the guy screwed up. And I wasn't going to send it _back_ to him, so…" She caught sight of Piper's face and nodded, laughing a little. "And that is so totally not the issue here."

"Totally not the issue," Piper repeated tersely. "The baby's coming, and neither Ben nor Chris are anywhere to be found. We've tried scrying for them — no luck. Huge demon attack too. Oh, we're doing so well today."

"The potion," Bridget said, snatching the washcloth and moistening her neck.

"Do you think it will work?" Paige asked, taking the cloth back and dipping it into the bowl.

"Never failed us yet," Bridget affirmed with a smile, leaning back into the cushions. "Oh, God. Here comes another one… As soon as I get my hands on Chris I'm gonna— ARGH!"

_There weren't any monsters here. Maybe they were only inside the TV and nowhere else. Well, she wouldn't know because she wasn't allowed to watch anymore. She had been mad about that for a long time. Her Mom had banned all TV for her after she had come home early and found Bridget watching this movie with scary men chasing this lady, even though it had been a really good movie. She thought her mom was a little madder at what the babysitter and her boyfriend were doing in the other room because there had been more shouting going on in there, but she'd never really found out what it was they had been doing. Soon after that, though, the throw from the couch they were on was tossed out with the trash._

_She walked towards the end of the alley, because her house would probably be right there. Hopefully. And if it wasn't, then she could go through another alley, and another one until she found where she was meant to be. It wouldn't matter as long as she made it home before her mother knew she was gone._

_The child idly wondered if this was part of her weirdness, whatever that meant. It was probably something to do with the cooties she apparently had, but she didn't think they existed either. To be honest, she wasn't sure anyone at her school had any idea what cooties were. Besides, after seeing her babysitter and her boyfriend do some very strange things and then be perfectly okay afterwards, Bridget doubted such things existed, because, if they did, her babysitter would probably be very sick by now._

_She felt a strange feeling in the bottom of her stomach and closed her eyes, spinning on her heel. There was a man standing there who hadn't been there before. A very scary-looking man. She held her head up high, but there was no way she could ever be taller than him. He was like a giant. She thought that giants might be real. Her mommy had been angry when she saw Bridget watching the films she liked, but her dad hadn't been all that mad. He liked stuff about monsters and giants, too. He said he got to read books to her that he was saving for when they had a boy. Not that Bridget had a brother. Or a sister for that matter. Besides, she liked having Mommy and Daddy to herself, even without a TV._

_She was going to whimper, but then thought better of it. Maybe if she made no noise and was very quiet he wouldn't hear her, or see her, or even come near, because that's what you were meant to do if you saw a dinosaur. It didn't work, though, because then he was striding towards her, kicking garbage bags out of the way. She suddenly remembered that the man in the story who had stayed still and quiet had been eaten anyway, causing her to gulp._

_Her parents taught her to always know when to run. If someone came after you, turn around and go screaming to let everyone know. If someone grabbed you, fight as hard as you could; don't let them take you anywhere. If aliens started attacking like in that movie, don't stand around watching the red plants grow; take your bike and go. She blinked. Maybe the last one hadn't been her parents._

_That's what she should be doing now, running. But there was that part of her that wouldn't, the part that wanted to attack. She looked left and right, swallowing as her eyes darted for possible solutions. Seeing a rubbish bag at her feet she dug both of her hands into the thick black plastic and hurled it at the man coming towards her._

_She was surprised by how fast and far it flew, but she was more surprised when she overbalanced and fell to the tarmac. Her palms grazed across the concrete, stinging wickedly, making her eyes tear up for a few seconds when she saw the blood. It hurt a lot._

_In the meantime, the garbage bag was about to hit the man. She was suddenly very sorry because she thought he might get hurt. It had felt quite heavy when she threw it, heavier than the normal things she had thrown. She had thrown it very fast and hard and far as well. He might get hit with it. Then he'd be angry and hurt, neither one of which would be a good thing._

_She needn't have worried, though, because the bag hit the scary man full on and disappeared in a flash of red light. Light grey powdery stuff tumbled to the floor. This time, she did whimper. She was suddenly very scared because it was as if the people from the TV had come to life and had come to get her._

_With her mouth open wide, she suddenly screamed as loud as she could. It echoed around the alley's walls, which changed and amplified her screech for all to hear. It was what mommy had said. If there are bad people, you should scream and run and not let them get you. Never ever. Some scary people hurt children and you were never meant to get into a car with them. He didn't have a car, though. Well, then she couldn't not get in because there was no car to not get into so she stood still, a little confused. If that scary man didn't have a scary car to not get into, did that mean that he wasn't a scary man?_

_The man's black coat was flapping around his legs as he walked and blowing out behind him a little. He was wearing some black jeans and a black top as well. He looked like a bad person. He looked like a scary person too, even though there wasn't a car. She bent down and picked up a stone, throwing it as hard as she could. It nearly hit him, but then it glowed red and fell to the ground in lots of pieces. He could nearly touch her, she realised, so she screamed again as loud as she knew how, screwing her eyes closed before turning on her heel to run._

_She wasn't normally very good at running. It was boring, and whilst her legs were very good legs, they were also very short legs. They didn't let her go as fast as her friends, so she always came last. But today, she was running very fast, faster than she'd ever run before. She wasn't getting tired either. The point was that she was running away from the scary man, and that was all that mattered._

_The nine-year-old opened her eyes from the scream and realised that she was about to run right into an older boy standing at the other end of the alleyway. He had messy blond hair and blue eyes. He looked strong, maybe even strong enough that he could stop the man. She couldn't stop the man. He was still coming after her. She squeaked and managed to skid to a stop by grabbing the boy's arm. The momentum nearly pulled them both over, but he righted himself at the last minute._

_He wasn't going to fall over. No. He was big and strong and could stop the nasty man that was chasing her._

_"He's after me!" she whimpered, pointing fearfully down the alley at her pursuer, who had only just broken into a run, startled by Bridget's sudden burst of speed. She realised she had a fistful of her saviour's top but didn't care as she hid behind him._

_The boy looked startled for a minute, long enough for the man to be less than two metres from them._

_"Do something!" Bridget cried desperately, smacking him on the arm. She didn't notice the boy wince at the blow because she was too busy panicking and wondering why he wasn't moving._

_He didn't say anything, but he held out his hand and conjured a weird blue ball into it which he threw straight at the demon._

_**Learning to Tango**_

"Ben?"

"Chris?"

"I guess you're the Mystery Prize," Ben said weakly, his eyes closing. This was all kind of too much to take in. Maybe it would better not to even try.

"Hey, you still with me?" Chris asked, startled by his friend's silence.

"Mmm?" Ben mumbled, opening his eye a crack and looking over at his friend. Oh yeah. Chris was here. He remembered now…

"What's wrong? Are you hurt?"

"A little," Ben said, shrugging it off and struggling to pull himself up higher against the wall. He swallowed and then cleared his throat. "How did you get here?"

"I have no idea," Chris told him truthfully, looking around the tiny cell. This was barley big enough to contain a rat, let alone two human beings. He almost found himself missing his dungeon. At least there was room to breathe in there.

"There's some game thing going on," Ben said, bringing a hand up to rub his eyes. "Like a competition to get past your mom and aunts to win prizes. It's weird."

"Prizes? What kind of prizes? You mean they're giving out new convertibles for the demons to ride around in?" Chris smiled, remembering Nixa's flashy BMW. God, she would have killed a demon for riding around in that, though. Slime on the seats and scales left in the foot well. Not nice, not at all.

Ben laughed a little and shook his head. "No. We're the prizes." He directed Chris to where they could hear voices coming from the next cave over. "And the owner of that lovely soprano is going to win us if she can kidnap Bridget."

Chris's eyes shot to life with anger. "She's _what_? I swear, if that darklighter hurts her…" He let the threat hang purely because he wasn't sure what exactly he _would_ do. He'd always let gory punishments be decided by Wyatt. He was never really one for making a demon suffer — a quick potion or a spell or something sharp to the heart to send them blazing down to the Wasteland was all he needed. You didn't need to lop it to pieces one by one to watch it suffer.

"Chris?"

"Yeah?"

"You're sitting on my legs."

_**Learning to Tango**_

"Shouldn't I start pushing?" Bridget asked desperately, wanting this to be over. This was worse than she had thought. Why did woman _have_ children? Why were they so willing to do this to themselves? And those woman that had two? Or _three?_ How did they manage to escape being diagnosed as clinically insane? How the hell did that work?

"Not until you're fully dilated," Paige told her, tucking the blanket tighter around Bridget. "I think we need to lie you down. Phoebe, help me move her over to the daybed. On three?"

They heaved Bridget up, getting her to half stagger across the room, relying heavily on Phoebe's arm. While they did that, Piper had picked up the scrying crystal again and was letting it circle fruitlessly above the map. She wasn't going to let Chris miss the birth of his own son. She refused point-blank.

Bridget let out a small whimper as Paige and Phoebe lowered her onto the daybed. She leant back as Paige plumped the cushions, wincing as pains shot through her abdomen.

"There," Phoebe soothed, rubbing Bridget's arm lightly. "You're okay."

"Where's… Chris?" Bridget hiccupped, swallowing tears. "I want Chris. And Ben. I want Ben. Okay, that sounded weird… Am I delirious yet?"

"Yeah, apparently they're in high demand today," Piper said dryly, not looking up from the map. "Hold on."

"Please let them be okay," Bridget muttered, squeezing her eyes closed. "Please, please let them be okay…" She opened an eye to see if her mantra had caused the crystal to drop. It hadn't. Suddenly, she sat up, her other eye snapping wide. "Paige!" she yelled, pointing across the room.

Paige turned, hair rushing into her face. She swept it back behind her ear and saw the last trace of the darklighter's purple orbing cloud. She only needed one look at the deadly weapon that darklighter was holding loaded in her hands to feel fear. She had seen what they could do, seen how they killed… She covered it with false bravado and began waving her arms and calling for anything she set her eyes on.

Chairs and books and end tables and lamps and vases and cardboard boxes and couch cushions and candles and pictures all turned into streaking blue-white projectiles. The darklighter was pelted with the onslaught. The sounds of crashing and thumping filled the attic. Every time Piper gestured at the darklighter, she blew up one of Paige's missiles instead.

Paige broke off the barrage, panting, when most of the light moveable stuff in the room was piled against the far wall of the attic. Still, the effort had worked because the darklighter was floored, bleeding from various points on her face. Paige had successfully disarmed her, forcing the crossbow to skitter across the polished wooden floor. The Charmed Ones and the darklighter both looked at it for a split second before the darklighter threw herself at her weapon.

Piper flicked her wrists, exploding the crossbow into a thousand dark orbs that quickly dematerialised. The arrow which it was loaded with, however, sprung from the disappearing weapon and fired itself across the room at Paige. The witch-whitelighter squeaked and dissolved into an orb cloud so that the arrow thunked into the wall and embedded itself in the wood.

As the arrow hit, Bridget sat upright and clenched a fist around one of the cushions around her, a scream signalling another contraction.

_Bridget didn't know what the weird blue ball would do to the man, especially when a garbage bag that looked a lot heavier had done so little damage. She peeked out from behind Wyatt, seeing nothing but his shirt in one wide brown eye. She was still breathing heavily from the run, but as the ball hit the man and sent him staggering back down the alley, she risked peering out with both eyes._

_"Did you get him?" she whispered, seeming to have misplaced her voice._

_The man was on his knees in the middle of the alley when, quite suddenly, there were now three men on their knees in the middle of the alley. Bridget squealed and ducked behind her mystery boy again, not wanting to look out. She didn't like this anymore. She wanted to go home. Better yet, she wanted go to the ice-cream place and have two scoops of butterscotch ice-cream with chocolate sauce and sprinkles and…_

_The man made a weird blue ball of his own. Scared, she started tugging on her saviour's sleeve again, trying to get him to leave. She didn't want to go without him. He could make weird things that stopped the man for a while._

_The other two men that looked just like the first got up, bearing crackling balls as well. She didn't like the look of them. They looked mad. Really mad. Her blond shield powered up another weird orb, but she pulled down on his arm and it went away. The scary men looked like they could throw lots better and anyway, if they got hit by the blond's ball, they might turn into more scary men. Those scary men would turn into even more scarier men, and soon Bridget wouldn't even know how to count them all because there would be so many._

_"We have to go!" she panted, pulling him backwards._

_"I can handle them," he said. Bridget missed the uncertainty in the blond's voice and his blue eyes, but she stopped tugging for a while._

_"Didn't you see what happened! Hit them again and more will come!" He glared down at her and she stepped back, a little intimidated. "What's your name?" She asked a little shyly, twisting the bottom of her jumper a little._

_He blinked at her. "Uh, my name's, uh... Wyatt."_

_"That's a funny name."_

_"No, it's not," Wyatt said immediately and a little automatically. It wasn't odd. It was his daddy's… dad's name. And his dad wasn't that odd, not compared to the rest of his family._

_Bridget was pulling on his shirt again. She looked up into his face, pleading with him to move off that spot, but he wouldn't budge. She wasn't sure if he was scared or confused or… or maybe just very, very brave. He could be brave. Really brave. You would have to be to take on three scary men._

_Then the scary men all threw their scary balls and she felt a tingling in her stomach that felt a little like she'd eaten too much ice-cream. She closed her eyes because she didn't want to be sick because that would make her look silly. However, when she opened them, the blue balls were crashing into the fire escape behind them. Maybe the men were bad at throwing and had missed? That could be it._

_"Run!" Bridget commanded, taking his hand and bodily yanking her new acquaintance along._

_His sneakers were scraping kind of slowly against the concrete, but she fought her hardest to pull him. She didn't know how she was winning because he looked tall and strong and she wasn't, but it didn't matter because at that point two noisy balls exploded where Wyatt's feet had been moments before._

_He suddenly seemed to come to his senses and pulled her back. The oddest sensation overtook her, like someone poured a large dollop of cold shampoo over head. Everything went away in the light of bright blue orbs. _

_**Learning to Tango**_

Piper gestured at Bronwyth but nothing happened. She gestured again and the darklighter put her hand to her cheek, which was grazed. Piper growled in frustration and pulled her hands back, concentrating on drawing all of her power into them. She flicked them one last time and the darklighter screamed as she was catapulted through the air. The thud as she hit the wall was sickening, but it didn't make Piper waver.

"Who sent you?" she asked, her eyes hard.

"I'm not going to tell you that," the darklighter sneered, about to clamber to her feet.

"Don't," Piper warned in a razor-edged voice. "Tell us who you are, who sent you and what you're here for in the next two minutes or I swear to God we'll send you on an all expenses paid vacation to the Wasteland. Got it?"

Paige orbed back in, clutching a bowl of steaming water in both hands. She set it down gently on the floor to minimize slopping of the scalding liquid just as Piper unleashed her power. It seared a burn into the darklighter's arm, eliciting a scream that made Paige jump and spill the water anyway.

Bridget held out her hand, but the only thing that appeared was a wisp of smoke and her hand fell. "Ben… and Chris. Where are they? You have to _look_ for them."

"We're trying, honey," Paige said soothingly, brushing damp hair from Bridget's forehead again and dipping the washcloth into the bowl of cool water.

"I'm worried," the hunter panted, whimpering a little as another twang of pain hit her. "You've got to help them."

"We'll do our best," Phoebe said. "We'll do our best."

A fresh surge of tears fell from Bridget's eyes as another contraction gripped her body.

_The cold feeling had gone away, but it had left behind dizziness that made Bridget feel sick. The warehouse walls were blurring around her and she suddenly fell over, scuffing her palms against the concrete again. There was more blood on her hands but she tried not to cry because the scary men were coming. She told herself that if she didn't cry her new friend was going to take her home or to Dairy Queen, but he wouldn't if she cried and looked silly. She had no doubt that he could do that because he looked like he could take her anywhere. He looked smart._

_She turned around to demand that he take her to Dairy Queen but he was gone. She felt panic rise in her chest as she heard the many scary footsteps of the three scary men coming around the corner. He had _left_ her! That wasn't very nice!_

_She looked around for a place that he might have gone. Almost right away, she saw a doorway in one of the warehouses and fixed her eyes on it, glaring at it. It had taken away the person who could get her ice-cream! She set her face and stormed into the warehouse to find him. He wasn't going to get away that easily. _

_"No! I won't have it, Chris!"_

_Bridget gasped when she heard the shouting, screwing her eyes closed and ducking behind a crate. She opened her eyes a crack and found herself in a gloomy warehouse._

_It was a lady who was shouting, making Bridget wonder for a fleeting moment if it was her mother. Then she realised that it wasn't. It was someone else's mommy. She was glad that that wasn't her mommy — this mommy had looked very mad and her shouting was frightening. Even when her mom had been yelling at her babysitter, she hadn't been _this_ scary._

_"You are ten, Christopher Halliwell! Ten!" the mommy yelled. She was bending down to shout at three people that looked a little older than Bridget. "Ten years old! I've told you a hundred times, you're not to come on vanquishes!"_

_"But Wyatt—"_

_"'But Wyatt' nothing! He's twelve! And he has enough powers to protect himself! And you, Nixa. Just because you have super strength doesn't mean you should be here. You're just barely eleven! And Ben— sweetie, you do know that if the wind changes you'll stay like that, right?"_

_Bridget put a hand over her mouth to cover a giggle. One of the boys in the group was pulling faces at the yelling mommy._

_"Who's there?"_

_Suddenly, Bridget realised that there were more ladies in the warehouse than she'd thought. She gasped and whipped back behind the crate, sliding to the floor and covering her mouth with her hand._

_"Maybe it was the little girl from my premonition," one of them suggested._

_Bridget was outraged. She wasn't a little girl. She was a grownup girl who could count to millions and millions and millions without her fingers and had gone on an expedition to find Dairy Queen all by herself._

_"Sweetie? Are you here? We won't hurt you."_

_Yeah, right. That's what all the bad people sad so you'd believe them and walk into their house where they'd chop you up and put you in a big oven just because their windowsills tasted nice. The child folded her arms across her chest. Let them find her, if they wanted her, because she wasn't going to say a word. Suddenly, a shadow blocked the light from the doorway and she looked up. One of the scary men was standing there! She jumped to her feet, running around the side of the crate and into the middle of the warehouse where the scary mommy and the ladies and her saviour and the three children were._

_"They're going to get me!"_

_"Wait, 'they'?" one asked, cocking her head on one side. "As in plural 'they'?"_

_"That's when there's more than one," Bridget said, her heart pounding._

_The one that was talking to her laughed. "Yes. It is. What's your name, honey?"_

_"I can't tell you because you're strange ladies," Bridget told them, tilting her chin up._

_She laughed again and her eyes crinkled a little. Bridget started to think that maybe, just maybe, she wasn't that much of a strange lady after all. "Oh. Okay then. Well, I'm Paige. And this is Piper and Phoebe. And Wyatt. And that is Chris and Ben and Nixa. But you better not talk to them — they're in trouble." She put a finger to her lips and Bridget giggled again._

_"See! You encourage them!" Piper told Paige exasperatedly, throwing her hands into the air. _

_"Pfft. Oh, I do not," Paige dismissed, waving a hand. She winked at Bridget and was just straightening up when she was hit with a blue ball and knocked flying into the air._

_Bridget squeaked and put her hands to her mouth as Paige cart-wheeled into a tower of crates and crashed to the ground. "Oh!"_

_"Chris, take your friends out of here!" Piper shouted, backing towards them. Wyatt made another blue ball appear and Bridget's eyed widened._

_"No!" she implored. "Remember what happened last time?" She lunged forward and wrenched his hand down and smacked his arm again. He glared down at her but she glared right back at him._

_"Last time?" Piper echoed, frowning a little. Oh, of course. She'd let Wyatt out of her sight for five minutes to yell at the orb stowaways and he'd gone to play hero. Ugh. Why couldn't either of her kids do as they were _told

_Without warning, the other two scary men appeared in lots of wavy lines. Bridget wanted to run and hide again, but there was nowhere to go. Wyatt was all the way across the room diagonally and she couldn't get to him without exposing herself. There were always the other children, who were standing about five metres straight in front of her. Maybe she could run to them?_

_Another blue ball was thrown by the demons but Phoebe narrowed her eyes a little and it stopped in midair then turned back, hitting its owner in the chest. He staggered backwards and fell to the floor. Another two identical men emerged out of him._

_Phoebe put her hand to her mouth. "Oh, God. Please tell me I'm seeing double and I need to go back to the optometrist and complain."_

_"If anything I'd complain about the last pair of glasses he gave you," Paige said slyly, flicking her eyebrows up and down._

_"Enough discussion about those!" Phoebe half-yelled, stamping her foot a little. "I liked them. So there."_

_"Wow. I really am the only adult here, aren't I?" Piper said, shaking her head and then rolling her eyes tolerantly. "Right: my turn." She flicked her wrists at one of the scary men. He crashed backwards into a pile of crates, but when he fell to the floor, there were another two of him._

_There were now seven men in the warehouse, and they all looked identically angry. Bridget finally decided that a run towards the other children would be a good idea. She broke into a sprint and practically flew across the concrete floor. She dropped to her knees as her run ended._

_"What's happening?" she asked, turning around to look at the fight just as Piper flicked her wrists and froze the entire warehouse._

_"We knew he was immune to all weapons," Paige groused, getting wobbly to her feet. "But did we not know that magical weapons made them divide?"_

_Phoebe raised a hand. "Guilty. I may have, er, speed-read a little too speedily…"_

_"The demons are attacking us," Chris explained to the new girl, but realised he was talking to an unanimated person. He hated it when that happened. His mom always picked the stupidest times to freeze everyone._

_Ben poked Nixa's arm and the blonde came back to life. She tilted her head a little and looked thoughtfully at the still-frozen child in front of her. "I think you can unfreeze her."_

_They often found that Nixa had amazing judgement, so Chris did as she asked, tugging her arm gently. Bridget blinked immediately as she jerked back into animation and then looked around._

_"Did something just happen?"_

_Chris was about to explain when there was an explosion across the other side of the warehouse. His head whipped around, his eyes frantically searching until he caught sight of his mother being blasted off her feet and tossed backwards like a doll by an energy ball._

_"MOM!"_

A single tear rolled down Bridget's cheek, following a track, Paige realised, that showed that many more had preceded it. Bridget's face was composed, save for looking pale and dishevelled. She wasn't making a single sound; she was just crying. The tear dropped off her chin and another one from her other eye followed it.

"It hurts," Bridget whispered, sniffling. "It really, really hurts."

"I know, sweetie," Paige soothed. "I know."

The witch-whitelighter heard the crackling of an energy ball and turned, her eyes widening to see it heading towards Piper. Her sister brought up her hands and deployed her power, but the resulting blast threw the oldest Charmed One to the floor.

Phoebe scrambled up, and, ducking an energy ball, proceeded to punch the darklighter in the face. She then turned, spun, and kicked Bronwyth in the abdomen before jumping and snapping a kick at the intruder's face.

Bronwyth staggered backwards, clutching at her nose and Phoebe advanced, her heels clacking on the wooden floor. Suddenly, the darklighter's head snapped up and she grinned, conjuring an energy ball that threw Phoebe across the room and into the table containing Ben's potion.

The witch's body swept everything off the table and sent blue liquid sloshing all over the floor, mingling with other ingredients and giving miniature explosions as they did so.

"Leo!" Paige yelled at the ceiling, getting up and preparing herself to be the last line of defence. "Table!" The piece of furniture Phoebe had crashed into dissolved into an orb cloud and flew through the air at Bronwyth, who annihilated it with an energy ball. "Leo! Help needed desperately down here! Uh… chair!"

The darklighter wasn't so quick with her weapon this time and had to black orb out to save herself from being hit with the armchair. The heavy piece of furniture clunked and skidded across the floor, teetering on two legs before coming to a halt when it hit the wall and slamming down onto the floor again.

"I'm going to send that bitch's ass to hell one way or another," Piper growled, slamming her hand down on the back of the couch and using it to pull herself up.

"Good luck with that," the darklighter said sincerely, punching Paige under the jaw and sending her crashing backwards to the floor.

Piper flicked her wrists, but the power bounced off the darklighter's back, and the oldest Charmed One felt fear rise like bile to the back of her throat, worming its way up from her stomach. This darklighter was something powerful, which meant that it was going to take something powerful to vanquish her. Well, let her feel the wrath of the Charmed Ones, then. Let her fry before she laid a single filthy finger on her grandchild.

"_The Power of Three will set us free_," Piper began chanting in a clear, unwavering voice that carried through the attic. Her eyes were gleaming as she felt Paige scramble up and take her hand, joining the chant. "_The Power of Three will set us free." _

Piper looked over her shoulder for Phoebe, but the middle sister was out cold. The eldest sister almost cursed before she realised that she didn't want to break the chant. Paige was gripping her hand almost hard enough to hurt as they backed towards their fallen sister.

_"The Power of Three will set us free."_

Flames began tickling at the darklighter's shoes the nearer they got to Phoebe, so that she turned and howled, throwing an energy ball at them. In the time it took for Paige to call for it and redirect it at the darklighter, sending her crashing into the wall, the chant had been broken and the flames had stopped.

_"The Power of Three will set us free,"_ Paige said again, crouching down and taking Phoebe's left hand. Piper took the right. _"The Power of Three will set us free."_

The darklighter began screeching as coils of dark, oily purple smoke began to shroud her body as flames licked at her feet and legs. She lunged across the room and managed to grab Bridget's wrist.

_"THE POWER OF THREE WILL SET US FREE!"_ Paige and Piper yelled in earnest, just as the flames surrounding the darklighter were hidden by a cloud of dark orbs.

"NO!" Piper flicked her free hand, but the explosion blew out the glass of the window behind Bridget and the darklighter as they both vanished in a cascade of bruise-like orbs and left the attic with nothing but dark smoke and the stench of burning flesh.

_Chris ran across the warehouse to where his mother had fallen. Immediately, three energy balls were sent his way. He threw out his arm, flinging two of them into a stack of crates. The top crate gave a groan and fell on two of the demons, crushing them. The third one ricocheted off the corrugated iron wall and hit one of the demons in the back. Two more demons replaced the two lost under the crate._

_"Mom, are you okay?"_

_Piper groaned and turned her head to one side, opening her eyes. "Mmm? Sweetie?"_

_"Yeah."_

_She sat up, suddenly more brisk. "Chris, I'm fine. I thought I told you to get out of here?"_

_"Yeah, but you got hurt."_

_Piper smiled and brought her hand up, gently pulling his head forward so she could kiss his forehead. "Yeah, I did. But I'll be fine. I want you to go home and take the other children with you, got it?"_

_"Are you okay?"_

_"Yes," Piper said, distracted as the two demons began clawing their way from the smashed wooden crate. "Straight home. You hear me?"_

_"Yes, Mom…"_

_"Good. Now…" She flicked her wrists and froze the warehouse again, giving Phoebe enough time to fish around in her bag and pull out vanquishing potions._

_"I think these will only work on the original demon," Phoebe mused. "And we only brought one potion each. We've got a four in nine chance of hitting him."_

_"I'm liking those odds," Paige said confidently, nodding and readying a vial at shoulder height as Phoebe tossed a vial at Wyatt, who caught it and readied it similarly to his aunt. _

_"Eenie," Paige said._

_"Meeine," Phoebe countered with._

_"I've got a minie here," confirmed Piper._

_"Good. MO!" Paige yelled, hurling her vial at the nearest demon. There was a bright flash as the potion shattered, but the demon was still standing. "Crap," Paige said, ducking an energy ball that the now animated demon had thrown at her. "Well, don't go for that one."_

_The demon threw another energy ball that streaked towards Wyatt. The blond witch-whitelighter threw up his shield and the weapon bounced off, sending the ball hurtling back into its owner's chest. Two more demons appeared._

_"Wyatt!" Piper shouted._

_"I'm sorry! It just bounced straight back!"_

_"Be more careful," Piper growled, gritting her teeth and hurling her vial at one of the demons who had been just starting to crawl from the wreckage of the crate before she froze the room. There was another flash of light, but no vanquish._

_"Eleven demons, two potions. We need to do some serious re-grouping and rearming," Paige warned them tersely. There were now four demons active in the warehouse, all of whom threw energy balls in the direction of the corner where Chris was still crouched with his friends and the mystery girl._

_"I told you to go!" Piper said, gesturing frantically at the children as an ice wall sprang up between them and the danger, discharging the energy balls. The sound of running footsteps behind her made Piper whirl, her eyes wide with panic and her heart thumping in her mouth to see Nixa dashing across the warehouse. She was sure she squeaked as an energy ball was thrown at the blonde child, but the nimble mini hunter dodged out of the way and threw herself at the demon, tackling it around the legs and toppling it to the ground. She shouldn't have done that. The demons may have been after Bridget, but they wouldn't hesitate to take out two hunters if the opportunity arose._

_As soon as the demon landed hard, Nixa was jumping on his chest, shrieking at him. "My grandmother brought me this back from China! This is handmade silk! You nearly burned it!" There was suddenly a very loud _snap, which caused the demon to gurgle and flash _before disappearing, leaving Nixa jumping up and down on the concrete floor, carrying on her frenzy on for a whole minute before realising that she had killed the demon. "Uh-oh." _

_"Apparently, a snapped rib to the heart doesn't count as a mortal weapon," Paige mused, smiling with approval and nodding at Nixa. "Who would have guessed?"_

_"Don't you encourage her," Piper said. "You're not the one that will have to explain to her parents why their child was out at a slaughter."_

_There were three active demons in the warehouse and seven frozen ones. As Piper brought up her hands to freeze them again, she had an energy ball thrown at her. Wyatt conjured one of his own and threw it to intercept the one aimed at his mother's head. The resulting explosion hurled the Charmed Ones and Wyatt in different directions while the ring of fire burst through the warehouse, animating all of Piper's frozen demons._

_The ice shield shattered, blowing chunks of freezing water all over Bridget, Ben and Chris. The rush of fire advanced on Nixa as she stared it down, dropping at the last minute to execute a combat roll underneath the flames. They ripped through crates behind her, sending sparks into the air._

_"She's good," whispered Bridget._

_"She's had lots of practice," Chris said, combing ice out of his hair with his fingers._

_The demons all turned as one and lit up ten identical energy balls in ten identical palms, all aimed at the group of children._

_"Uh-oh," Ben muttered, his head dropping onto his chest._

_"Oh no! What happened?" Bridget asked, her eyes widened with panic. She was gripping Chris's arm tight enough to hurt so that he had to forcibly yank it out of her grip._

_"It's okay. He's good at this." He was going to have bruises later._

_"Good at what? Sleeping?" Bridget asked incredulously, her wide eyes glaring at the apparently sleeping witch beside her._

_Ben appeared in a blur of red lights on the other side of the room, behind all the demons. He smiled. "Behind you." _

_They all turned and threw energy balls at him while Bridget squeaked loudly and buried her face in her hands, watching through little chinks in her interlaced fingers._

_"What's happening?"_

_Ben disappeared, and with a gasp, his body woke up. He blinked and rubbed his eyes. "Okay, go."_

_Chris scrambled to his feet and went to stand by Nixa. He balled his fists as the demons recovered from their confusion and turned back to face them. He flung out his arm and felt like he was moving it through his Aunt Paige's soup. The air seemed thicker and heavier as his power left his hand and hit the demon, knocking it to the floor. Telekinesis was hard. Lifting heavy objects with it was harder. He'd heard great tales of how his aunt Prue had flung demons into and off walls and all about the house, but he wasn't quite there yet. Wyatt was, of course. Leo had had him throwing around a sewing dummy hung with sandbags for practice. But even Wyatt had found it hard and tiring at first, which brought Chris some comfort. He used his power again anyway, sending another demon slapping to the concrete._

_Ben looked around before getting up. Wyatt was unconscious against the warehouse wall, tossed there by the backlash of his own attack. Phoebe, too, was lying crumpled at the foot of a stack of crates. Paige was sitting up and rubbing her neck, her face screwed up in pain. Even Piper seemed dazed, her brown eyes unfocussed. _

_"Energy ball!" the youngest Charmed One called through gritted teeth, diverting one of the deadly orbs into the wall and away from Nixa._

_"What is it with you and trying to ruin my things!" Nixa demanded, hurt. Tears sparkled lightly in her eyes. "Stop it!" She stamped her foot and set off towards the demon, her jaw set. "It's MEAN!"_

_"Come on," Ben said, taking Bridget's hand and pulling her up. "We have to go and help."_

_"But… but I don't know how to help!" Bridget protested in a high-pitched voice, nevertheless allowing herself to be led into the middle of the chaos because she didn't want to be left on her own._

_"Do your best," Ben told her, wiggling his fingers and freezing one of the demons solid. Chris used his power and flung it to the floor, where is shattered. There was another bright flash and it disappeared._

_"I think we need to get the proper demon," Nixa said, stepping off a demon before he disappeared from underneath her again. Hers disappeared in a flash of light as well — not the real demon._

_Ben brought his hands up again and wiggled his fingers again, freezing another. Chris was about to wave his arm when Bridget started running and streaked past both of the witches at the frozen demon, dodging the grasps of unfrozen ones to get to her goal. She wasn't aware that Nixa was doing the same and as Bridget dove for the legs from the front, Nixa jumped and dove for the demon's neck from the back._

_The result was that Bridget skidded forwards with her arms around the demon's legs, and Nixa landed hard on the demon's upper body. They had snapped it in two. Blinking in shock for a little while, they regarded each other with mutual respect as their target disappeared in a flash of light._

_"Argh!" Chris brought his arm in close to his chest, his hand clamped around his forearm. The burn from a not-quite-deflected energy ball was oozing nasty yellow stuff and lots of blood. He felt the world blur a little with tears, but then wiped his nose on the back of his hand and used his good arm to bash two ice statues together and shatter them. Two flashes of light told them that he still hadn't got the first demon._

_Another demon disappeared in a cloud of orbs and reformed near the ceiling. It fell like a stone and was dashed into a thousand glittering pieces on the concrete floor, his aunt's telekinesis more effective at demon slaying than his could ever hope to be._

_There were just three demons left in the warehouse now, one of which became the target of the fallen potion Paige orbed toward them. It flashed off its body and did nothing. She cursed, feeling dizziness flow through her brain and addle it enough for her to no longer be able to prop herself upright anymore. Her elbows clumsily slipped and her cheek hit the cold, gritty concrete floor hard enough to knock out a filling._

_Well, she guessed Piper had been right. Lollies would and had damaged her teeth. Damn cavities. You eat a couple of strawberry and cream lollipops and you're paying for it for the rest of your life. She may be the only sister whose vision did not require the aid of glasses, but she bet she would be the first to have to eat with the aid of dentures._

_She did note that it was kind of odd that she was having random musings about dental hygiene while her nephew fought for his life, but, then again, she had been sure that the world did not normally have this much motion…_

_Ben froze two more demons which Bridget and Nixa both jumped on one each, knocking them over. With a tired gesture, Ben froze the last demon, then with a move equally as fatigued Chris, shattered it on the floor in a burst of bright light._

_The two young witches slid, exhausted, down a stack of crates. Magic took energy. Lots and lots of energy. And that had to be replaced somehow, normally with sleep. Or calories. And seeing as how the latter didn't really seem to be an option right now, Ben and Chris's eyes started to close._

_"Oh, my God! That was so cool! Can we do it again?" Bridget asked, turning to Nixa. "Please?"_

_"If we can find some bad guys," Nixa said, laughing and brushing imaginary lint off her top. She, too, got a thrill from the adrenaline rush._

_"There!" Bridget shouted with glee, her eyes lighting up as she pointed. Nixa's head snapped up as another demon appeared from the shadows between a narrow alleyway between two crates._

_"Chris!"_

_The two witches turned, only lethargically. When they saw the demon, their movements quickened, but it wasn't fast enough. The demon grabbed them both by the collars of their shirts and lifted the struggling pair from the floor._

_The demon smirked at Bridget and Nixa. "Be right back." With a chuckle, he shimmered away._

"Okay, come on Phoebe. Come back to us, sweetie…" Piper gently tapped her sister's cheek over and over, making small slapping sounds against the flesh. "Come _on_ Phoebe, this is no time to be sleeping…" Piper said, a little madder, cupping cool water from Bridget's bowl in one hand and trickling it onto Phoebe's face. Her sister's eyelids twitched a little, which Piper took as a good sign, gently beginning coaxing and tapping again.

"Isn't she awake yet?" Paige asked desperately, the scrying crystal dangling from her hand and circling over the map. "Oh, come on. This is ridiculous… They've gotta be in the Underworld or something."

"Well, the second I wake up Phoebe, we're going down there," Piper told her sister, glowering at the unconscious one.

"Oh, no you're not," Paige said, looking up from her scrying and shaking her head. "I'm going to orb you to Magic School."

Piper's eyebrows shot up and her lips pursed. "I see… Yeah, good luck with that."

"I mean it. It's not safe for a woman in your condition to be down there, especially seeing as how this time round, you are neither a Super Mommy nor endowed with a force field. So you're going to like it, missy."

"No one messes with my family. My son and my grandchild are down there as we speak. I'm going. End of argument."

Paige threw down the crystal and straightened up, sucking in a deep breath through her nose and narrowing her and her eyes dangerously. "Fine. Be that way." She waved her arm and called, "Magic School!" Piper's body broke up into thousands of shining orbs.

"Paige!" Piper's voice called, echoing and disembodied. "You are in so much trouble, young lady. Bring me back!" But then the voice, with the orbing lights, faded as Paige breathed a sigh of relief and strode purposefully across the attic, her heels clacking on the boards as she got to Phoebe and crouched down.

"Phoebe? Come on, wakey, wakey…" She got no response from her sister, so she looked to the bowl of cold water that Piper had been using earlier and picked it up, emptying it over her sister's face.

Phoebe woke with a gasp and sat bolt upright, spitting water out of her mouth and snorting it down her nose, clawing it out of her eyes. "PAIGE!"

Paige flicked her eyebrows up and down. "Oops. Come on. We have some demons to kill."

_**Learning to Tango**_

"How… 'dilated' is she?" Corr asked, pacing up and down past Bridget, rubbing his chin.

Bridget was on a huge stone slab in the middle of the room. The cold air was giving her the chills, and her skin began to pucker into gooseflesh as her hairs dragged it into raised bumps. She shivered, feeling the sweat and tears on her face become clammy and cool. She wanted Ben. Ben could make a fireball or something that would make her warmer. He could also use a few to kill the bastards that had captured her. Either one would be good right now.

Clea grabbed hold of the hem of Bridget's thin nightgown, prompting Bridget to sit up as much as she could manage and wrench it out of the demon's grasp with a look that could have melted steel.

"I wouldn't if I were you," Bridget growled darkly, her eyes flashing. Who were they to look at…. down there? She had nearly died when Paige and Phoebe had had to, let alone some demonic scum with a poor dye job.

"Well, lucky for me, you're not me. Otherwise I'd be in this state," Clea sneered, wrenching Bridget's hands away from the nightgown and seizing the hem again, pulling it up.

Bridget gave a yell as a contraction hit her, but at the same time kicked Clea has hard as she could under the chin. The kick had enough power to knock the demoness off her feet and to throw her to the floor.

"Told you," Bridget snarled angrily, reaching forwards to pull her nightgown back down and leave her dignity intact.

Corr grabbed her arm and forced her to lie down, producing an athame in his hand and holding it to her neck. "I suggest you cooperate," he sneered. "Just calm down, breathe, relax and _push."_

_**Learning to Tango**_

Chris's head fell to the floor in exhaustion. His heart was beating wildly and irregularly, and every now and then, one of his muscles would bunch and spasm. He had tried orbing out of the cage more times than he could count now, but try as he might, he couldn't even manage to orb anymore, let alone anywhere outside of the crystal cage.

He was taking up practically all of the room in the cell and was only just refraining from lying on Ben's legs out of courtesy by scrunching himself up. He wondered if his friend might be unconscious again, but thought that it was probably better that Ben stayed that way. Unconsciousness was the body's way of shutting down totally so that it could repair. And Ben looked more than slightly worse for wear.

The witch-whitelighter closed his eyes and swallowed, trying to slow down his thumping heart because it was actually unnerving him. It would give two strong beats and then a small fluttering one, and then stop entirely for what was way to long for how fast he was breathing, before starting the cycle again. Probably from the cage's magic messing with his body's electrical signals. Or something.

Well, you couldn't expect a guy to pay attention in _every_ Bio lesson he had, could you?

His eyes were closing and he was starting to see sleep as the preferable option. Ben had the right idea, he decided. Just sleep and be done with it; let his body fix itself. He didn't actually remember when he had last slept, and now he was more exhausted than ever and maybe if he closed his eyes for just a second…

But then he heard a scream. A scream of pain. His eyes shot open, and his heart started thumping again. As exigent as it was to force his leaden limbs to move, he did so anyway, sitting up and staring at the door, waiting to see if the scream would sound again.

Around two minutes later it did and he knew. He knew that Bridget was down here. They had Bridget and the bastards were going to pay; they weren't going to get away with snatching Bridget and his baby. He was going to kill them. As irascible as he was already towards the demons, this doubled the feeling of hatred, making it worse, larger, greater. He was digging his nails into his palms as he gritted his teeth, his body vibrating with fury.

He threw a telekinetic blast at the door. The inside was already dented from similar blows, but this one made a larger dent in the metal. He threw another one and the hinges buckled and groaned. He hadn't known that he was capable of putting this much force into his powers, but now that he knew that this door was the only thing separating him from the hunter, it had to go. And, slowly, it was doing so. Dents turned the door into waves of rippled metal, and with a screech, one of the hinges tore itself free from its moorings and dropped to the floor.

He looked over at Ben, whose eyes were half open. He appeared to be concentrating hard on the door, shaking with the effort. The muscles in his arms were bunching as he fought to get his hands free, but then, a second later, it was as if a giant fist had punched the door. The magnetic force was strong enough to tear the clasp from the bead necklace Chris was wearing and hurl it across the cell.

"They've got Bridget," Ben murmured, rubbing his eyes. "I think we need to kick their asses and other bad things."

Wholeheartedly agreeing, Chris continued his onslaught on the door until he heard a key in the lock. Pausing with his arm in midair, he waited until the guard was in view and then made a fist, almost able to feel the demon's heart bursting between his fingers, blood trickling through the digits and over his hand as the demon screamed and burst into flames. Never let it be said that Christopher Halliwell had never learned anything from his brother.

He scrambled up and ran for the door but was blasted back down in a cascade of white sparks. He managed to get his head a couple of inches from the floor and saw the crystals glowing tauntingly at him.

"I'm guessing 'ow'?" Ben asked stupidly.

"Your skills never cease to amaze me," Chris said flatly, sitting up. The crystals' glow began to die down, to which the witch-whitelighter sighed, running a distracted hand through his hair. "There's gotta be some way we can get out there…"

"They're on in sixty seconds for the presentation shot," a voice announced. Chris froze, holding his breath and trying to discern how far away it was. It sounded again. "I _said,_ they're on in sixty… _fifty_ seconds for the presentation shot," it said again, snappishly this time. It was coming closer, Chris was sure. "Is there even anyone back here?"

There was a flash of flame from Ben's direction and Chris turned, slightly panicked, but all he saw was Ben rubbing his wrists and brushing charred threads of rope from the sleeves of his shirt.

"It took long enough," Ben grumbled, stretching. It had, indeed, taken a while for him to twist his wrists enough so that he could get his fingers into play and burn through the rope.

"What are you two still doing here!"

Chris could only guess that this was a demon in human form because there was nothing demonic about her appearance. She was of medium build with dark hair and carried a clipboard under her arm. She had a headset on that incorporated a microphone and an earpiece, which she was pressing into her ear. Chris followed the wire down to a battery back and receiver at her waist.

"Um—?" was the best Chris could come up with before the harassed-looking demon clapped her hands twice and shimmered them both out of the prison cell before turning on her heel and walking back out into the prison clock corridor.

"Whoa," Ben said, holding out his arms to keep his balance. "Okay, what just happened? Where are we?" There were blinding, burning lights in front of him and above him as well as a camera. Was he back where he had started? He barely remembered it the first time.

"What the hell do you think you're doing! You can't put _him_ onstage!" There were more voices now coming from behind the lights, but their pupils were dots, shrunk to prevent the harsh bulbs damaging their vision so that they could not see into the darkness beyond.

"Ten, nine, eight…"

"Damaged goods! Do you _want_ the show to look cheap! Just… just put the other one on and keep him out of shot."

"Yeah, so, I have no idea what's going on," Ben tried weakly. It didn't get a smile from either Chris or himself and he sighed, feeling the throbbing in his head coming back. Someone grabbed him by the arm and started pulling him backwards. "Let go of me!" Ben growled, struggling. But his movements were slow and clumsy and weakening with every thrash he made, and soon he was exhausted. And his head hurt more. And he was sleepy…

Corr walked onto the stage from Chris's right and put his hand on the witch-whitelighter's shoulder. Chris shrugged him off. "I'm warning you, if you try anything I will kill your friend and the bitch back there squeezing out the kid. Don't think I won't."

Chris ground his teeth and didn't say anything, just nodded once to show that he agreed and folded his arms across his chest, looking unhappy and chewing his tongue to stop himself saying something he would regret. Or something that his friends would be made to regret.

"Bronwyth, the darklighter, has completed the challenge and will be rewarded for her gallant efforts at getting past the Charmed Ones not once, but twice," Corr announced to the camera. "How about we bring her on? Let's bring her on. Bronwyth, my fellow demons."

Chris looked to his left, narrowing his eyes as a woman stepped out of the shadows. He recognised her as the darklighter that had attacked the Manor and nearly killed Bridget. Instantly his fists balled and he readied himself for a fight. He was going to kill her. Kill the scheming, evil bitch for what she had almost done.

The darklighter had burns all over her body. Her clothes were hanging off her in some places, completely seared away and revealing charred flesh beneath. The tips of her hair had singed as well, and she had cuts all over her face. Oh, that was so not the worst thing that was going to happen to her if Chris got his hands on her…

Corr kissed her left cheek, then her right and then her left again. "Here she is. Now… Shall we give her the reward she deserves?" He moved behind Chris, lightly spinning the athame that had materialised from nowhere in his hand between Chris's shoulder blades, who stiffened.

"Wait, what!" The witch-whitelighter yelped, turning to watch Corr and cursing himself for showing fear. "What's going on?"

"We're giving our darklighter friend here just what she deserves," Corr told him with a twisted smile, spinning on his heel fast enough to be a blur and plunging the blade into Bronwyth's back. She screamed, her spine arching away from the weapon, her hands clawing at the air as if trying to cling to life as she burned and disappeared. The athame crackled with little blue bolts of lightning.

"I don't understand…" Chris said uncertainly, narrowing his eyes and cocking his head a little at the demon behind him once the rushing of the inferno had faded.

"Just one final twist," Corr smirked at him, kicking out his legs, which were shaky enough as it was, sending Chris sprawling across the sandy floor.

"Now, viewers. Watch as we, the games masters, play the game. We're not just going up against the Charmed Ones — we will take all. Don't miss out. Stay tuned and watch us take it all; their lives, their powers, and their progeny." He crouched down next to Chris, holding his athame close to the brunette's face and allowing it to glint in the light. "And when we're done remember, viewers, we have two witches that could be yours for the keeping. Don't forget — you're watching Witch Wars."

Someone gave the command to cut and Corr stood up, lovingly polishing the athame when he heard a shout from across the studio.

"We can see the head!"

_**Learning to Tango**_

_**Dun! And there we are, until next time anyways. Liked? Didn't? **_

_**I JUST GOT MY E-MAIL TELLING ME THAT MY COPY OF THE HALF BLOOD PRINCE HAS BEEN DISPATCHED! AND IT'S 3am AND I AM NOW INSANELY NUTS! I WON'T BE SLEEPING TONIGHT! HEE!**_

**Pixie Wildfire****: - HEH! Oh, wow, that is totally not a pretty image…**

**chattypandagurl****: - We need so many more Spaghetti-Os in this world. Seriously. It's like… gold in a can. You can tell I don't cook "proper" food much, huh? Thanks for reviewing!**

**ilovedrew88****: - Heh, thanks for your review.**

**Aldrea7****: - Hee! It nearly killed ya, huh? And, oh, God. Please, please don't remind me of bug spray. _Raid_ is a scary, scary thing, my friend. You're finger terrifies me. I'll ask who else it's been poking and leave it at that because, honey, I know you're mind will do the rest. I'd pet you, but you might bite me, so… I'll just say thank you and you stay there. Further back. There. Good…**

**As Always****: - HEH! Aw, thank you so much. I'm embarrassed now. And the baby's STILL coming. Heh. You'll have to wait on that one, I guess… I'll be over here whistling innocent and blushing and THANKING YOU FOR YOUR WONDERFUL REVIEW!**

**HauntedPast: - Sorry! Sorry! I try, I really do. But it's here now! And it's long! Thanks for reviewing.**

**WoodyFan1016****: - Thank you.**

**minimonkey89: - I'm sorry it took so long. But, look! Chapter! Hee. Thanks for reviewing.**

24


	16. Chapter 16

**To Baby: Don't you get any ideas, mister — Mommy and Daddy don't need that. Go a full term — I hear it's positively trendy.**

* * *

Ben didn't know what to do. It was _Bridget_ lying there in front of him, crying. He had seen her cry only a very few times, but it had been nothing like this. She never cried vocally — you would never _hear_ her cry, only see the crystalline beads roll down her cheeks to meet their end on her sleeve or on her lips and tongue when she thought nobody was looking. 

Now, however, the raven-haired Hunter was sobbing on the frigid stone slab that reminded Ben so much of a mortuary that his stomach turned. Her eyelids were closed, concealing the shimmering brown irises from view, but tears were still leaking out from under them and running down the side of her face. They pooled on the stone beneath her as she gave another strangled cry, suddenly sounding like a small wounded animal. Ben was suddenly aware of just how little Bridget was. She seemed shorter than ever and was shrunken back into the rock as she whimpered and cried. Another cry tore through her and into Ben. It ripped through him so violently that he felt it just as well as if he had been an empath.

There were strands of black hair plastered to Bridget's forehead through sweat —the rest of it was splayed in a lank mess behind and above her head. Her eyes were swollen and rimmed with red, making it almost seem as if the patented, refulgent Bridget glint had gone out. The Hunter was lying there slightly propped up on her trembling arms, her nightgown sodden and see-through. It was plastered to her legs and back with the fluid that had announced her waters finally breaking. "There's… there's something wrong," she managed to bite out. Smears of pink were bleeding through the fibres of the cotton gown, worrying Ben about where exactly the blood was coming from. But Bridget was staring at him, willing him to understand what she was saying, and he had no time to dwell on the subject. "There's something wrong with… with the baby. I know it. I can _feel_ it."

"No, no there's not," Ben croaked out, surprised to find actual words tumbling from his larynx, which felt like it had had concrete poured down it, sealing it indefinitely.

"Benny, d-darling, you… you are not the m-mother of this thing. Forgive me for tell—" she broke off and swallowed, screwing her eyes closed against pain and gripping the edge of the unrelentingly algid stone until the contraction had passed. "—telling you that you don't have a clue, okay?"

Ben chewed on his bottom lip, tears forming in his own eyes that he swiped away with a trembling back hand whilst brushing hair back from Bridget's forehead with the other. He hated being here; he didn't know what to say. There was nothing he could think of to assuage her of her assumption about her baby's health because it would be transparent — she would only call him on. He didn't think that he could pull off that big a lie with much conviction at all, especially not to someone as important to him as Bridget. He turned his damp but angry hazel eyes onto Clea, who was lounging unconcernedly against the wall of the chamber, a rictus splitting her face with the malignant thoughts of impending power and glory she was about to receive from the child. She wasn't even looking at Bridget, just grinning off into the distance and Ben's glare was lost on her.

A demonic midwife had been called for the occasion, and the ennui that her whole body language conveyed made Ben ball his fists and grind his teeth. How dare she not care what this was putting Bridget through? He sighed, realising that he wouldn't get any information out of Clea because she didn't _know_ any information — she was only a spectator. She had perhaps even less of a clue about what was going on than he did, which was basically nothing, he bitterly reminded himself. Unable to accept that for Bridget or himself, he decided it was high time to at least try and remedy that.

"Well?" the witch demanded in the end, turning on the midwife for answers. "_Is_ there something wrong?"

"I don't talk to witches," she snapped back, turning her eyes back to the tiny head that was emerging.

"You'll talk to this one," Ben snarled, conjuring a fireball in his palm. He levelled his arm threateningly as if to throw it, but was suddenly hit with an intense, sharp pain in his head that had appeared as suddenly as a thunderclap. His free hand shot to his temple then felt its way to the back of his skull. He was bleeding again, and, as he looked at the red smears on his fingertips, the fireball guttered as if in a high wind and went out. Coils of smoke were emanating from his now-empty hand. He looked at the vacant palm in mild confusion before the midwife looked him up and down contemptuously, smirked, and went back to Bridget.

Clea cocked a disdainful eyebrow and said tiredly, "Sit down." The demoness threw a low-voltage energy ball at the witch. It hit Ben in the chest and knocked him off his feet to slam into the ground.

"I'd rather stand," Ben replied stonily, having laid there for a while. He slowly rose again, spitting sand out of his mouth. Grains of it had become lodged between his gums and his upper lip which he dragged out with his finger. The digit came back with a little blood on it and he wrinkled his nose, wiping it on his jeans before using the slab to pull himself back up. His arm muscles were shaking, he noted, and his legs weren't doing so well either, but he hoped the demons didn't notice. All he could think was that he was all that was standing in between them and Bridget, and if he looked weak then there would be nothing he could do to help her. He began stroking her hand again, watching her face.

"Some more pushes," the demonic midwife purred in sugary, almost encouraging voice, her eyes alight with the history-defining moment she was a direct part of. She would be guaranteed power for bringing the ruler of the entire Underworld into being. She was sure of it. As the Source's nurse, how could she not?

"I can't!" Bridget wailed. The room was starting to fade around her, spinning a little. She felt drained. Well and truly drained of everything just like clothes with their dye washed out and left, sopping wet, on a counter. She felt lifeless and exhausted, and she could feel something warm spreading between her legs that could in no way be her lost amniotic fluid. That had turned cold and slippery long ago in the chilly air. She didn't want to know what it was, but she highly suspected blood. She knew there must be a lot of it, because the tang of it had penetrated the air. Was her baby bleeding? Was she a bad mother already? It never occurred to her that it might be her that was bleeding. At least, not until Ben gave a muffled gasp and looked away too quickly, hoping that she hadn't seen his reaction. She knew then that it was her blood, which calmed her slightly. She'd bled before. As long as the baby was going to come out of it okay, she would be okay.

"PUSH!" the midwife yelled, slamming a hand on the slick stone. She was damned if the weaknesses of a mortal were going to delay the deliverance of her Lord any longer. She'd apparently given up on gentle cajoling, Ben thought, hating her all the more.

Bridget was shaking her head wordlessly, tears streaming down her face. Her nose had started running but she couldn't raise the energy to wipe at it with her hand, and let the salty liquid gather with the odd stray tear in her philtrum until she could feel it dribbling onto her cracked lips, stinging.

"Come on, you can do it. Do you want some tiny child to beat you?" Ben asked, his voice thick with tears he was trying desperately not to spill. "Do you think I'd ever let you live it down?"

Bridget's speech was ragged from her torn throat and choked with sobs and she barely managed to gasp out, "It hurts…" There was a tremor in there that Ben had never heard before. It was mixed with gasps of pain as well and intermittently interrupted by a hiccough or a sniff.

"I know, but you're nearly done. I can see the head. A… wait, what? A _blond_ head?" Ben suddenly added in surprise, then frowned and cocked his own head to one side, contemplating what he was seeing with a small laugh of disbelief. He shook his head a little. Genes, huh?

"Blond!" Bridget said, actually managing to sit up for a few agonising seconds. "How…? Chris and I…" She sank back down onto the slab, wishing she had never attempted to sit up.

"Is this the part where you reveal the baby isn't Chris's?" Ben teased lightly, smiling for the first time since he'd entered the room.

"Yes. I w-was screwing th-the gardener in the potting shed," Bridget said, a breathy laugh escaping more down her nose than through her mouth.

"The Manor doesn't have a potting shed," Ben reminded her, a silent tear making its bid for freedom down his face.

"Yeah, y-you see, that's why you-you've not been getting a-a-any," Bridget replied, her teeth chattering a little, punctuating her deteriorating speech with clicks like knitting needles. There was a small silence in which Ben stroked the back of her hand and let another fat, glittering tear fall to land on his shoe. Bridget suddenly sat bolt upright and clung hard to the edge of the stone table, splintering three of her nails down to the quick. Beads of blood began to gather at the end of each finger, dropping to the floor and bursting in tiny crimson splashes which stained staining the sand. She flopped back down backwards with her eyes closed. She was crying some more and Ben moved back forward, having been sent reeling backwards with the force she had pushed his hand away. "Do you really m-mean it? Blond?"

Ben was trying desperately to think of more badinage to distract Bridget with, but there was too much buzzing through his brain, his synapses firing all cylinders. "Well, uh… Leo's blond, and, and so's Wyatt, so you can blame Chris for that," Ben said, biting his own bottom lip as Bridget's became tinted with a shade of violet that made his heart beat in his throat.

"Heh. Well, he's gotta help raise a b-bimbo anyway. Chris… where… where, where…?" her voice began to trail off and her eyes looked seemingly through Ben.

The witch panicked momentarily at the vacancy he saw in her expression. "Where is he? I don't know…" he said quickly, filling in the gap with words, both asking Bridget's question and answering it at the same time. He should keep talking, even though he felt guilty admitting that it made him feel better to talk. It made him feel better just to hear his own voice in a way that was inexplicable to him. It felt like he was only talking to reassure himself and not Bridget. His own selfishness cut him deeply. "So, are you still with me? 'cause, you know, if you're not, I'm not left in the best of company."

There was a triumphant cry from the midwife and she picked up an athame. She wiped it absently on her apron and left it in her lap, glinting. She then picked up the baby tenderly, reverently, before wrapping it in a towel to dry it and gently wiping away mucus and blood from the child's face before transferring it to one arm. She reached down with the other. Ben thought that she was going to cut the cord, but she had just reached for a blanket and not the dagger. The snaking umbilical cord lay limply in front of her. She didn't cut it, just looked back at the baby's face and wrapped it in the blanket, daubing at it with the towel before discarding it and shifting the child so she could rub its back in circles, gradually getting harder and harder.

"Bridget?" Ben asked desperately, moving towards his friend, searching her face with widened eyes. Oh, God. Was she—?

Bridget's breathing had become metallic, as if the blood was seeping its way into her lungs as well. "Boy or girl?" she murmured through cracked and blueing lips, her voice like a tinny breath of wind. Blood that was in no way from her ruined fingertips was now starting to ooze and trickle off the edge of the slab, stealing little bits of Bridget's life away with it like harvester ants carrying those huge leaves. The sand was sucking her lifeblood into itself greedily, turning it nearly black and sodden.

"Well?" Ben asked. "Is it a boy or a girl?"

The midwife was frowning over the baby, doing something with its nose and mouth and alternately slapping the soles of its feet, first left, then right, the smacks getting sharper and sharper the more she had to do it.

Bridget suddenly whimpered, her eyes half opening as her hands reached for her deflated abdomen. "It hurts. Again…"

"Again?" Ben asked, twisting and weaving his fingers together worriedly. His throat was dry and his eyes were darting to and fro, trying to asses the situation. "Is she having twins?"

"No, her placenta is detaching," the midwife said absently, frown lines contorting her face. She was barely concentrating on Ben's words, more intent on carefully putting a finger into the baby's mouth and down the back of its throat. It came out thick with congealed blood and other sticky substances that she wiped away on her apron, giving two more short breaths into the baby's mouth and nose.

"Her what?"

"Placenta!" the midwife snapped, using the corner of the towel to wipe at the baby's nose, capturing her bottom lip between her teeth.

Ben suddenly felt a chill that had nothing to do with the cold air in the room. He looked at the baby and realised that it was a blue-purple, the same tint as Bridget's lips. It wasn't crying, either. Babies always cried when they came out, did they not? Anxiety bunched in his stomach, fluttering away like a thousand butterflies as he realised what an ersatz he was; he had no idea what to do and was a poor, poor substitute for any kind of doctor, or even Chris. Chris could have brought comfort to Bridget. Chris would be doing _some_thing right now and not just standing idly by whilst Bridget could very well be dying…

"Boy?" Bridget asked, shivering.

"Hm? Oh, yeah. Yup," Ben said, not looking at the baby. He hated lying to her, but it was better than her asking constantly after the baby's sex and worrying about it when she clearly should be worrying about herself and the danger she was in.

"G-good. Didn't _really_ want a girl."

"Yeah, I know," Ben told her, stroking her dark hair away from her forehead, all the way from the roots down to the split ends splayed across the gritty slab.

"I m-mean, you take what you get, but b-bitchy. Girls get bitchy…" Bridget murmured, her eyes going unfocussed again. She smiled through Ben's face again, apparently staring at the ceiling which was lost in the gloom even through Ben's skull.

"Yeah, you would know, right?" Ben asked, eliciting an even wider grin and a snort of laughter from Bridget. Ben worried that she might be getting slightly delirious, chewing on his bottom lip some more and continuing to mechanically stroke her hair.

"I a-am the Qu-queen Bitch, huh?" she asked, her laugh turning into a desperate cough, a shaky pant.

"You sure are. But in the best way ever," Ben said, tears falling from his cheeks and exploding on the stone slab. One went astray and exploded on Bridget's forehead.

"What's this? Ben cr-crying?" Bridget asked, her eyes beginning to glaze and shutter. "Stop the pr-presses. I thought you…" Her eyelashes fluttered and her eyelids twitched, about to close.

Ben took her hand in his. It was freezing, like gripping white marble between his fingers. He blew on it, trying to warm it with his breath. "Thought I was a what?"

"A big, big, big, BIG strong man," Bridget said, exploding into a weak giggle that blew her lips out like a raspberry and threw forth a little spittle that hung at the corner of her mouth. Okay, definitely entering delirium, Ben thought, as she pulled her hand from his and used it to wipe ineffectually at her face, smearing day-old makeup and the cavern's grime around her soaked features.

Ben took a deep breath in, but it was shuddering as it entered his lungs. Her lips were fully blue now, smeared lip gloss outlining them in pink, and her face had become grey, the colour of the slab on which she lay. Her skin had taken on a ghostly air, practically transparent. Ben thought he could almost see her skull poking through the thin flesh that was stretched too tightly over the bones. Bridget was dying. He knew that, and yet he was standing here, stroking her hair, not knowing what to do. He couldn't even help her — he _didn't know how_. This was brave Bridget. Temerarious Bridget whose policy it was to smash into danger head-on, Bridget who was truculent towards demons but scarily soft when you knew her, the Bridget that had held stupid grudges at him that had been, at best, ephemeral, Bridget who had come out of much worse scrapes than just _giving birth_, and yet there she was. Lying there trembling with her carotidartery fluttering uselessly, the blood it was supposed to be pumping up leaking away downwards. It was trickling and dripping and tearing away everything that was Bridget from the world with every tiny splash.

"I don't h-have a name," Bridget mumbled, contorting her features into a frown. "A name for a boy…"

"Ben," Ben said, jesting with her still even as he sniffed and cried.

"I-i-if you think I'm going to be name-naming this thing after you, you don't know me at… at all. You don't know me at all…"

"Worth a shot, right?" Ben said with a shrug.

"Heh. Yeah. I guess so… Well, I sup-suppose that i-it _has_ caused me a lot of gr-grief over the past seven months. Not as l-long as you've been doing so, by the way, but still long enough. Kind of f-fitting, to name him af-after you, after everything…"

Ben laughed despite himself, his face crinkling and forcing tears to run thicker and faster in odder directions. "You really must think I don't know you at all, huh?"

"Oops. You got me. No Bens. I w-was thinking Archimedes. Something hard to spell, you know? But, then again, I want s-something it takes people a long time to work out how to pronounce, j-just to be awkward. Archimedes. You know? Like the talking owl? I liked him…"

"Talking owl?"

"S-sword in the Stone," Bridget said, screwing up her face as her placenta finally came free from her body, dragging with it the rest of the baby's umbilical cord and a whole tide of blood, which engulfed the table with a wash of deep red. "I like Di-disney. Snow White was a ho. I m-mean, seven tiny little m-men? All who c-could fit und-under her dress?" She snorted. "Come _on_…"

Ben laughed again, the tears rolling down his face leaving sticky trails. He took hold of Bridget's hand and, pressing it between his palms, he could feel the weak beat in her thumb that signified her life. Not knowing what else to do he gripped a little tighter, willing it to stay there.

The midwife raised her athame at last and neatly severed the cord on its serrated edge with almost no resistance at all. The blade must have been wickedly sharp to have cut so neatly and so quickly. She carried the infant off a little way.

"I pushed my baby out; do I at least get to s-see it?" Bridget asked suddenly, trying to see the child but being hit with such a wave of dizziness that she slammed back down onto her back.

"They're busy with him," Ben said quickly. "You know, keeping him warm and cleaning him and — and stuff. You know, probably. Maternity's not my forte."

"What is, though?" Bridget asked with surprising clarity, coughing smothering her laugh until it was dead. Ben gripped her hand tighter, unfledged naivety thinking that the propinquity of them would anchor Bridget down, keep her with him, with Chris. He wasn't sure he could handle losing another friend and Chris… It would kill him. Bridget sniffled a little on the slab.

"Yeah, yeah, I know," Ben said tolerantly, looking down at her. She was paler than ever, dark rings accentuated under her eyes by her pallor and the distinct lack of colour anywhere else, other than those livid purple circles and the frostiness of her lips.

"Ben? Do something f-for me?"

"Anything."

"D-don't pr-pretend to yourself that y-you're invincible. You're just as vulnerable a-as the rest of the world, and l-let me tell you, it's a sh-shock when you discover that."

"What, you think you're dying?" Ben said, trying to laugh it off, stroking her hand harder, forcing her to stay with him. "Bridget Vance? Dying?" Ben scoffed, actually squeezing further tears from his eyes in doing so, but forcing out a hollow laugh anyway. "Don't be stupid. Somebody'd have to drop a house on you to kill you, and unless I'm very much mistaken, I don't see one. The props department wouldn't pay out, I guess. Tight-fisted bastards, huh?"

"So why are y-you crying if y-you think I'm going to m-m-make it?" Her teeth were chattering again, her whole head seeming to vibrate with the movement, down to the quivering of her eyelashes.

"Got something in my eye, haven't I?" Ben said roughly, picking up Bridget's hand. It was odd, he thought, all of the fists this hand had made, all of the things, people, demons it had punched, and yet the fingers seemed too small and spindly — delicate, even — for that kind of job when they were gripped within his own, seeping iciness into his palms.

"Oh. _Yeah_…" There was another deathly pause, in which Ben saw the baby's chest rise as the midwife blew into its nose and fall again as she moved away. He looked away. It was dead; the midwife was just scrambling desperately to resurrect it because it was supposed to be the new Source, and because she didn't want to face the wrath of Clea.

After everything that they had been through to protect it, after everything they had been through rescuing Bridget and making sure she was safe, after just all the ups and the downs and trauma that it had caused, it was dead. The supposedly all-powerful evil being had succumbed to a mortal weakness of stillbirth. Overcome by the urge to lash out at anything and everything, Ben kicked the support of the stone slab, cursing as pain shot up his foot. Everything that had happened had been centred on Bridget and her baby, but now it was dead. How was that fair? How was that fucking fair that everything that they had worked for had been taken from Bridget and Chris? They were supposed to have a baby at the end of it. Everything they had gone through would be worth it because of that tiny life that was going to be theirs, but it was dead. Dead before it had even left the womb.

"Calm down," Bridget said, reaching for his hand again. He had wrenched it away when he had started cussing and pacing, anger regurgitating up inside him.

Ben looked back over at her and immediately swallowed his rage, hating himself for being so selfish and letting it consume him when Bridget needed him. He took her hand back in his again and smiled at her. "Sorry. Just been a long day."

"_You_ think it's b-been a long day?" Bridget asked, trying to laugh but only rasping. "Hello? Been giving b-birth all day?"

"Heh. Yeah, you win." He rolled his eyes. "Not by much, though," he added as an afterthought. "I don't want to be too much of a loser."

"T-too l-late," Bridget breathed, just as Ben said the same thing, anticipating her words.

"Ben?" Bridget said, turning to him. "I'm cold, Ben."

"Well, they don't have any heating under here, do they? Too big a bunch tightwads to pay the gas bills." Loser. All you know how to do properly is make a joke of things, he thought bitterly. He couldn't help Bridget properly; all he could do was crack stupid jokes at her as if they were going to help.

"'S'not that type of c-cold," Bridget said, her eyes closing a little until she was just peering out under her lashes. "Ben?"

"Yeah?"

She raised her trembling hand and pressed a piece of folded paper into Ben's palm. "Give this to Chris for me, will you?" Chris's name was written on the outside in shaky writing. Tear splodges dotted the page and Ben folded his fingers over it and shoved it deep inside his back pocket.

"Yeah. Of course."

"Wrote it while you were p-pissing about trying to s-save me," Bridget said with a slight smile. "Just in case, you know?" She shivered. "I can't feel my legs…" She couldn't. The blood and fluid there was no longer feeling sticky and tepid to her flesh. She could no longer feel the cold, tacky nightgown plastered to her thighs and calves. Tingling numbness was all that was left. She closed her eyes once more, willing that numbness to travel the rest of the way upwards. She had always been fighting. Fighting, fighting, _fighting_. And now she was tired and just wanted to sleep. Just sleep, just for a while… Could anyone begrudge her that?

"I know. Stay with me for a while, though, yeah?" He was begging and he knew it. Bridget _had_ to stay with him. There was nothing else that could happen. She was going to get better. Dammit, she _was._

"So… Th-this is what dying feels like, huh?" Bridget asked, in what would have been a conversational tone if her voice was not rattling in her throat.

"Bridget—"

"Denial. River in... in E-Egypt and all of that, Ben," she sadly, smiling at him even as more tears fell. "I'm dying, and that is that. I always th-thought that it would be s-so easy to be br-brave, you know? I stare death d-down every day, but now…" She was coughing again and making snuffling noises so that Ben was again reminded of a small wounded animal that was mewling and mewling as the darkness closed in. Her coughing fit subsided until she was crying silently again, sniffling. "Ben… Tell me I'm pretty."

Ben could almost feel his heart shatter and break, fragments falling to the floor with his tears. He smiled tightly and looked at her, with her fanned and slightly matted hair and smudged dark spots on her ashen cheeks and chin, her littleness more obvious than ever. He sniffed, making sure not to stumble over the words so he that sounded as sincere as he felt when he said, "Bridget, you're pretty."

"How pretty?"

"If you weren't dying and would I not face pain of death from Chris, I would take you in a manly fashion."

"'cause I'm pretty?"

"Because you're beautiful," Ben told her, and finally he let his mask slip, letting go of a small sob, wiping his noise gently on the back of his hand where it joined his wrist. He ran a hand over his eyes, spreading salty tears across his vision and then, when he looked down, the world had dissolved into a teary haze. He could hear the breath leaving Bridget's body rather than see it, and he could even hear that she didn't take another one. He could hear his heart thumping and blood roaring in his ears, and as the tears momentarily cleared as they fell, he could see her eyes were closed and that she was still.

His knees suddenly quit on him without leaving so much as a resignation note, buckling underneath him. He shuffled closer to the stone table and Bridget, where he gently continued stroking her hand. He pursed his lips, determined that nothing would pass them, but then the second sob exploded from them with all the force of a bomb. He rested his forehead on her hand, his back shaking and his gut wrenching with sob after sob and wave after wave of bitter tears that ran in rivulets down the cold skin of the back of her hand, pooling where the bones jutted out and then gathering so much that they spilled over to the stone.

"I'm sorry," Ben whispered, looking up at her face. "I am so, so sorry…" His voice broke again just as Bridget began to disappear, breaking apart and becoming translucent, then transparent, and then fading away. The last thing to go was her features, but they too succumbed in the end until Ben was left with the impression of bubbles in champagne after they had burst before that was spirited away too by a sudden breath of warm and strangely soothing air in the cold and stale chamber.

She was gone. It settled upon him like lead weights, or, more accurately, like the pressure of being underwater. It was crushing his lungs, making it near impossible to breathe and for a second, he didn't care if he never took another breath in his life. Everything seemed to be blurred and distorted, sounds and sights alike. The dull beat in his ears as his throat clenched accentuated that feeling of being trapped beneath the surface of some large, deep and very dark body of water.

Bridget was gone. Just as plain and as simple as that. Denial, though — bittersweet denial — had reared its deceitfully beautiful and helpful head and was working its web over him, trying to convince him in its sapid way that this was not happening — that Bridget was not gone. It stopped him fully processing the situation and all he could do was search the now-clean stone slab with his eyes, back and forth, as if Bridget was going to appear back on it again.

There was suddenly a howl from across the room which made the witch look up, startled, his heart thumping wildly. In the midwife's hands was the blanket and towel she had been using on the baby, but the baby itself had gone. The midwife frantically picked apart the swaddles around what had been the infant, but was met with just scorched cotton and dark grey ash, which began to tumble out of the sides of the blankets as the midwife fumbled with them. Some fluttered to the floor akin to a grey mist falling through the cavern, other pieces landed in large chunks on the floor and exploded to mingle with the sand.

"No… I-I'm sorry, there was n-nothing I could do; you've got to understand that, _please_…" The midwife was trembling, pleading with Clea. She was still cradling the ash-filled blanket as if it were a live baby but the more she shook the more ash spilled out of the edges.

"You, you STUPID—" Clea broke off and gave another scream of rage, lashing out and slashing four sickly green lines across the midwife's cheek with her nails. Demonic blood began to ooze down the demoness's chin as the midwife stumbled and fell, the last of the ash scattering across the floor as she put her hand to her cheek, blood running through her fingers. The games master threw an energy ball at her, vanquishing her in conflagration.

Ben swallowed, pushing away both his grief and his denial, both of them too disabling for the situation. He found himself back on his feet, not sure whether he was shaking with exhaustion, anguish or odium towards Clea. He decided he didn't care, as long as it let him kill her.

The games master just sneered at him, looking him up and down, then raised a hand to throw an energy ball at him. Ben thrust out his hand as if he were releasing a bowling ball and threw a fireball at her. It hit her in the chest and threw her into the wall, sending her energy ball smashing into the ceiling where it cracked the rock and brought down a shower of dust and small debris.

"You are so going to pay for that," Clea threatened, summoning another energy ball into her palm and throwing it at the witch. Ben was about to conjure a fireball in retaliation when there was a loud crash. The door was blasted out of its frame, followed quickly by a flying body. The body cracked its head on the centre slab and laid still. The energy ball then redirected itself back at Clea when it had been just centimetres from Ben, lifting her from the ground and across the room.

Chris was standing in the doorway with his arms folded, leaning against the doorpost. "Should have really let me get to my friends when I asked," he said conversationally, shrugging. The witch-whitelighter looked around the room, his eyes falling on the empty slab and then on Ben.

His friend's eyes were red and his face was streaked with tear marks. Chris could feel his heart skipping a beat as his throat constricted and the gravity of what must have happened here settled on him. He blinked, mouthing wordlessly at Ben, not knowing how to pose his question.

"She's gone," Ben said unnecessarily, his voice small. "She's gone, Chris…"

Chris blinked and took a step backwards, frowning and shaking his head a little. He gave a small laugh of disbelief. "What do you mean?" Ben just looked at him, unable to say anything more. Chris swallowed, gripping the doorframe until his knuckles turned white. He was dimly aware of the noise of things rushing around him as his knees buckled, but the doorframe saved him from falling until he could command his legs again. "The baby?" he all but whispered, already terrified of the answer.

Ben shook his head, words failing him utterly. He had no idea how he was supposed to tell Chris that he had just lost Bridget and his kid, but, although he knew that the simple gesture of shaking his head was not the kind of answer Chris deserved, it was all he could give. He couldn't think of any words that would make his best friend feel better — nothing that wasn't clichéd or would bring an iota of comfort.

"Right…" Chris said weakly, his eyes falling, unseeing, to the floor. His features hardened, his knuckles tightened further and he looked up with his jaw set and his eyes blazing. "Right," he said, his tone unnerving Ben. "So, what are you demons out to do? Destroy every single thing that makes my life good? Is that it?"

Corr — he had been the flying body — only groaned and began to stir, rubbing the back of his head. Clea just sat up and smirked at him, unaffected by the iciness in his voice and eyes.

"Well? TELL ME!" Chris demanded, throwing out his arm and sending Corr catapulting through the air. "I want to know."

Clea rolled her eyes heavily. "Oh, please," she drawled tiredly. "You humans are just _so_ pathetic…"

"Pathetic?" Ben croaked out, nearly all of the intended outrage lost. "I'll tell you what's pathetic. You are. Hiding behind this stupid game of yours, letting other demons do the work so you're not in the firing line, probably gathering up their powers as they're killed. You're the pathetic ones — pathetic, parasitic, cowardly bottom-feeders who don't deserve to be alive."

"So," Clea said, flicking up her eyebrows and smirking. "Kill me."

Chris immediately created an invisible telekinetic sphere in his palm, concentrating on it until he began to shake, and unleashed it at the demoness. It hit her in waves, the first slamming her into the wall near the ceiling. The successors ploughed through her, cracking bones and rupturing organs as it went. Finally, she dropped to the floor taking gasping breaths and wincing, which rapidly stopped until she was smiling.

"Oh, ouch. The pain you big bad witches dish out…" She revelled in Chris's glare. "Surprise," she told them in a singsong voice, wiping a hand over herself for the sheer effect of the flourish then getting back to her feet. "You may call me pathetic for hiding out and collecting powers, but it means that you. Can't. Beat me. I'm too strong for you."

"Can't beat _us_," Corr added, standing up and interlacing his fingers with Clea's, gently bringing them to his lips and looking her in her eyes, kissing them. "Us one…"

"Witches, zero," Clea finished tauntingly, casually throwing an energy ball at Chris. It caught the witch-whitelighter in the shoulder and knocked him backwards onto the floor.

Ben formed a fireball, the anger and hurt he was feeling enough to mask the pain in his head and egg the flaming ball onwards. It hit Corr instead of Clea, but it at least tore the games masters apart and flung Corr backwards.

"Don't call the score yet," he said dangerously. He tried to form another fireball in his hand, but he could feel all of his energy draining away into the centre of his upturned palm. He closed his eyes and quickly regained his focus. All he had to do was bring the memory of Bridget just fading into nothingness into his mind and his eyes snapped open, the wavering fireball flaring brighter. Before he could throw it, however, Clea threw an energy ball at him that blasted him to the floor near Chris and extinguished the result of his effort which had taxed him beyond all belief. She could see it in his expression, his eyes…

"Don't call the score yet," Clea mimicked snidely as Corr climbed back to his feet. "Now, you're both going to be good little witches. You're going to go in front of our cameras, and you're going to make every demon want to jump on the Witch Wars bandwagon. Understand me?"

"Or they could not."

The four in the room turned to look at the source of the voice. Paige had orbed in with Phoebe in tow on the other side of the cavern. Immediately the two witches launched potions at the games masters. They exploded on the demons' chests, puffs of coloured smoke whose pathetic wisps drifted harmlessly up to the ceiling.

A comical caesura fell across the cavern. Paige and Phoebe still had their arms half-raised, obviously been under the impression that their potions were going to do something to the games masters. The games masters were looking down at their chests in amusement until Clea looked up with a single quirked eyebrow at the two Charmed Ones whilst Ben and Chris looked on, mainly in embarrassment at the nugatory potions.

"Um… We're here to save you?" Paige said weakly, not wanting to spoil their effort completely.

"Ah," Chris said.

"Of course," Ben added, just as Paige redirected an energy ball into the wall. Phoebe wasn't quite quick enough to dodge hers. When Ben looked, he wondered if her delay was due to the fact she had been expecting her levitation power to kick in. Whatever the reason, Phoebe went down. Hard. Ben wasn't sure if she was dazed or unconscious, but she was bleeding a little.

Paige dodged an energy ball and redirected another one, orbs sparkling all around her. "You know, if you'd like to give me a hand, I'll always totally support you when you ask for your allowance to be raised," the youngest Charmed One squeaked a little desperately, throwing one of Clea's energy balls back into the demon.

Okay, so maybe they'd needed Piper more than she had first calculated, but it was not the kind of need that was going to make her put her sister and unborn nephew in danger. She did notice, though, that the odds like grim as the energy balls that she was redirecting repeatedly missed her attackers. She had no time to aim; she barely had time to gesture at the onslaught.

Chris came out of his torpor long enough to throw the barrage of crackling weapons away from his aunt. He then turned his eyes on the two demons, which both had new energy balls alight in their palms already, unfazed by the loss of their previous weapons. "Enough, dammit! Enough!" the witch-whitelighter yelled suddenly, telekinetically hurling their energy balls into the wall and adding to the scorch marks the miniature battle had already left scarring the stone. "You, stop it," Chris said to Clea and Corr, before turning to his aunt. "And Paige, take Phoebe and go home to Leo. She's going to need her head looked at."

"What, and leave you here? No way! Amongst other reasons, your mother would murder me."

"There's something I think I need to do," Chris said quietly. "Take Phoebe home. I'll be fine."

"We'll be fine," Ben added, stepping next to Chris. "Just trust us, okay?"

The Charmed One's eyes narrowed, the stubborn streak that had come to her hand-in-hand with her powers from her bloodline kicking in. She pressed her lips into a thin line and stared Chris down, her eyes boring into him. "Chris, I _said_ that you're coming with me. I won't leave you here. Any of you. You're all coming home and we're going to look in the Book of Shadows and we're going to—" She broke off, her eyes widening slightly as she took in the expression on Chris's face for the first time. Her memory flashed back to finding Nixa dead under the dining room table… "Speaking of _all_ of you…" Her throat dried out, leaving what felt akin to cracked, sun-baked mud in its wake as pieces of an awful puzzle clicked into place. "Where's… where's Bridget?"

_**Learning to Tango**_

Leo could feel sweat running down his back but he ignored it as insignificant. He was breathing heavily; ragged gasps of air entering and exiting his lungs as he prowled with burning eyes through another dark passageway. He felt his way along the damp and sometimes slimy stone with hands that had bled and scabbed over more times than his self-healing power could keep up with. Not that there was much magical energy left for that in the first place.

_Keep going. Keep walking onwards otherwise you won't find the demons that are going to kill your son…_

The voice he was hearing was driving him forwards, making sure that the ache in his head and legs, the growling in his stomach and the sandpaper dryness of his throat paled in comparison to the desire to protect Wyatt. His face and arms were peppered with bright red scratches, and his clothes bore black smudges and tears that made them fit only for the rubbish.

Light began to appear in front of him in beams that widened pari passu with his advancing footsteps until the flickering torchlight was being thrown across his face, making his eye sockets look hollow.

_Yes, that's them. Those are the demons that are going to turn your son against you… Kill them. Save Wyatt._

Leo's face immediately twisted into a mask of hate as he clenched his teeth so hard that his jaw cracked before thrusting himself forward into the cavern. The conversation stopped as he stepped into the half-light and all attention fell to the crackling bolts of blue electricity surging through his fingers and leaping from the tips of his digits with loud cracks and sparks.

"You think you can kill my son? Huh? Is that it?" He got no reply, so he thrust out a hand and sent a stream of lightning bolts at one of the crimson-robed demons, vanquishing him into a pile of ash. "SPEAK TO ME!" Leo yelled, raising his other hand and adding to the crackling line streaking from his fist, sweeping the power across the room and cutting through the demons like a hot knife through butter. They all screamed and burst into flames, reduced to piles of sparking, popping ash on the floor. When the screams died down, Leo let his hands drop to his sides. He exhaled shakily and swallowed, eyeing his handiwork before balling his fists to douse the sparks then staggering across the cavern on protesting legs to the corridor beyond.

Gideon was peering across a desk with steepled fingers touching his upper lip and resting just below his nose with interest at his acquaintance, who was slumped, apparently sleeping, in the chair. The headmaster had an ankle resting on one knee and seemed to be contemplating his companion, head slightly tilted.

Suddenly the other occupant of the chamber woke with a start, startling Gideon more than he would like to admit. His associate's face split into a grin as he sat up straighter in the chair. "Another bunch of opposition down," he said, unable to withhold a satisfied chuckle. "I must say, you Elders are holding back on us with that lightning power of yours."

Gideon shifted uncomfortably, giving a non-committal shrug. "For use in extreme circumstances only, you understand."

The grey-haired partner waved it away. "Of course, if that's what you guys like to think."

"It's the truth," Gideon replied icily, his eyes boring into his consort, almost daring him to say otherwise. "Tell me what happened."

"Well, you know, he's a little unstable for an Elder. Just the tiniest little inkling in his head that someone is after his child and, boom, he's on the warpath. You might want to look more carefully at your screening process before you let guys like him loose in the heavens."

"So he's killed another faction?"

"Left them as a pile of ash on the floor," the comrade replied, steepling his own fingers and smiling.

Gideon, who could not tell if he was being mocked or not, scowled, pushing himself up off the chair and pacing around the room, his robes whooshing after him, mimicking his movements like an afterthought. "How far do you think he'll go?"

"Well, that's a good question. I think he could wipe out the Underworld. Probably get himself destroyed in the process, but…"

Gideon's mouth twisted in thought. He needed to get rid of large numbers of the Underworld. Suspicions he had and suspicions he had stolen from the work of the two brats in the Manor's attic had fuelled his worries. If demons kidnapped Wyatt and protected him while he grew up in their image, there was nothing Gideon could do about the impending tyrant other than stand around and watch him destroy the world. He needed certain factions, certain groups, eliminated. Having demons killed was not something he was inclined to be dilatory about — it worked better for him that way. Dead demons equalled more security for his and the Elders' future. It also secured some kind of future for the evil being in front of him, which was the only reason that they were cooperating — they had a somewhat mutual goal.

It was regrettable having to use Leo has a pawn in all of this, but it was far better that demons heard of a rampaging father slaughtering any danger to his son rather than a demon sitting as high in the hierarchy as his cohort did killing them, which would arouse suspicions in them. Also, it would be better if they saw the attacks as nothing to do with the world of the Elders, rather a tiny splinter from the mass doing it. The Titans were still raw in his mind — anything that could be done to prevent anything else supremely evil getting angry and formulating plans against the heavens worked in his favour as well. So Leo was needed. He also needed to be manipulated which was, again, regrettable, but more importantly _justifiable_ — the Greater Good would prevail.

The Greater Good, however, was an argument that was getting weaker and weaker inside his captious mind. Everything he said, ordered, did was processed by his mind; as much as he protested to himself and to anyone who would listen that his actions were for the good of the world, his mind always flagged up objections. Like killing something as innocent as a child. Like infuriating the Charmed Ones and having them come after him in their grief. Doubts big and small, likely and unlikely, flitted through his consciousness like ghosts, visiting only briefly to cause chaos — upend furniture and the like — before disappearing again and leaving him more confused than ever before. "Leo has done enough for us," he finally said slowly. "For now at least. Break whatever holds you have on him, allow him to rest. He could always be used… later."

If his collaborator noticed the faltering of his sentence he did nothing to show it, save for turning his eyes on Gideon almost expectantly. Gideon went back into a thought train, weighing out actions and consequences. He might have one more use for Leo yet. There was still the matter of the Source, due two months from now, and the matter of the future witches who knew too much. Dare he request that Leo be used to rid him of their interference?

"I _may_," Gideon said, stressing the 'may' as to lessen the blow of his volte-face away from the Elders and towards the distinctly more disturbing path of malfeasance, "have one last use for him yet."

_**Learning to Tango**_

Paige didn't know why she'd asked the question when the answer was both simultaneously obvious and horrifying to her. She felt her eyes fill with hot tears before disbelief could set in. It tried to settle over her, but what she was seeing in her nephew's eyes made it impossible not to believe Bridget's fate. She was dead.

"Chris, I…" she trailed off, exhaling softly. When someone was taken from you violently and suddenly, there were no words to express it. No words that could bring comfort when you felt like your heart had been replaced by a black hole. When her parents had died, she had actually screamed when someone told her that they were sorry. She had screamed and pummelled them with her fists before running off in tears.

It had been the twenty-eighth time someone had tried to use those two words to bring comfort to her.

So she was not going to apologise. It did not matter that they were the only words beating their away around her skull; she was not going to utter them because she knew firsthand of the hollow emptiness of the words and how she had hated them just as Chris would hate them now.

"Are you all going to break down and _cry_ your little mortal hearts out?" Clea asked mockingly, making crying motions with her fists. "Oh, such a loss… how _awful_."

Ben's fists balled at his sides, the nails digging into his palms. He wanted her dead. He wanted her killed and suffering, being devoured by the Beast in the Wasteland. He wanted to tear her head off and play hockey with it. One of his nails punctured the skin on his palm, but he didn't care. He couldn't even describe the hate he was feeling for the sneering, mocking demoness. The nearest he could come up with was an all-consuming void; his only goal was to make sure she suffered pain. He caught sight of something glinting at her waist and realised that it was one of the 'WW' daggers. Ben swallowed hard to force his anger away so that he could focus on it to drag the steel blade into a magnetic pull. Clea noticed it shifting too late, and before she had time to even cry out, it was plunged into her heart. Still not content, the witch twisted the blade through a full three-hundred and sixty degrees turn before she burst into a pillar of flames, her skeleton clearly showing as her skin and organs were incinerated before they, too, succumbed to the fire and fell to the floor in a mist of grey ash.

Worryingly and without any encouragement from Ben, the knife flew into the witch's hand. Ben instinctively curled his hand around the cold metal hilt. Lightning bolts surged up from the dagger and into his wrist and he was suddenly infused with such a rush of power that he staggered backwards, barely able to hold the athame as his various injuries sealed themselves over.

"NO!" Corr yelled, dropping to sand beside the remains of his slain love. He looked up, eyes burning, and threw an energy ball at Ben. The witch raised a hand and met it with one of his own. The two obliterated one another in a ring of fire over the table that had held Bridget.

Ben looked down at the dagger in his hand. The blade was now dull. He tossed it at Chris, who snatched it deftly out of the air and examined it, regarding it oddly before looking up and throwing it as hard as he could at Corr. The athame flipped over and over through the air, on a mission. Corr saw it coming and thrust his arms out wide, bearing his chest for the blade, no longer in possession of any will to be alive.

No sympathy registered on Chris's face, only satisfaction, as the blade plunged past flesh and ribs and through the demon's heart, killing him in the same manner Clea had been vanquished. The athame returned to Chris's palm. The steel was a swirling mass of dark colours until it relinquished the powers held within into Chris, whereupon the blade dulled again. Chris dropped it to the floor, now useless.

"Chris, you shouldn't have those powers," Paige said, shaking her head. "_Please. _They're not meant for you, Chris and if you insist on keeping them, something is _going to go wrong_. Please, look, just come home with us and we'll sort this out. You've killed the demons that did this; you've killed the demons that were playing for Wyatt, what more do you want?"

"I want to send a message to any and every demon in the Underworld. I want them all dead. I want every sick _thing_ that watched this show for entertainment burning in the Wasteland for what they've helped to do. You don't understand Paige, you just don't. So, please. Take Phoebe home let Le— _Dad_ deal with her. We'll be fine."

There was such pain and anger and conviction in his eyes that was punctuating his words that Paige bit her bottom lip and nodded slowly, swallowing hard. "Give them hell," she said quietly as they shimmered away, Chris's eyes staying on her until the last second, silently thanking her as he dematerialised.

Paige took a deep breath in and let it out a little shakily through her mouth and walked across the room, past the smouldering mounds that had been the games masters then around the central slab. Chris's dropped athame was lying in the sand and she stared at it for a while, gnawing gently on her bottom lip as she contemplated. She was frowning a little and she gazed down at the dagger, folding her arms and leaning back against the slab, before swiftly bending down and coiling her hand around the hilt lest she hesitate further and straightening up. She strode quickly back across the cavern to take her and Phoebe home.

_**Learning to Tango**_

Shimmering was a lot different than Chris had anticipated. Not that he had particularly spent hours debating on what shimmering would feel like — Gods, he would love the luxury of enough time to sit and do that — but he still had some vague idea in his head that it would be nasty. Cold and clinical, the direct opposite to his orbing power, which encased you in bright lights and whisked you off to your vacation lulled within the swaddling of incandescent orbs almost like a large security blanket. Orbing had actually felt like that for him since a very young age, and so he imagined shimmering would be on the other end of the scale to orbing — like an icy breath of wind spurring you forth — but it wasn't. Shimmering was like stepping through a pleasantly warm shower of rain — the good kind. The fat kind that made a nice noise on your umbrella (if you had one, which Chris hadn't for many years) rather than the kind that hovered in the air like mist. As he emerged out of it feeling better than he had started out, he sighed slightly. Everything about evil was so alluring; he realised that now more than ever. The powers, the influence… and, right now, he'd give anything for the demonic lack of compassion and emotions that usually came with these powers, just to deaden the pain.

Now, more than ever, he could see what it was that had ensnared his brother. He could _feel_ Wyatt's point of view, and it worried him to find it so… so enticing. Evil was addictive. It captured you like some kind of voluble plant and he _knew_ that, but it did not sit well with him the way it was tugging at him, subtly seducing him, the second he stepped out of the shimmer. He wanted to go again but at the same time he hated it, so he fought it. But he also saw how hard it would be for one to fight it. One that was tired of fighting, one that was used to having great power, one that thought that, hey, what's a little more power if it can get you what you want and help you achieve vengeance? He had suddenly found an entirely new level of clarity on Wyatt, and he didn't know if he liked it or not.

He looked across at Ben, who had just shimmered in to his left. Behind him, the continual blaring of the Witch Wars music was practically deafening. He grimaced a little, squinting through the beams of the projector that was throwing the image onto the white screen.

The entire bar had gone silent, drinks half-raised towards now-gaping mouths. One demon dropped three darts before he could throw them. A demoness playing pool was startled enough by their appearance to tear the green cloth and shoot the cue ball right off the table. Somewhere, a glass was dropped, the crash of shattering carrying on the silence.

"So, you want to play a game, huh?" Ben asked menacingly, summoning an energy ball into his palm.

"Come play ours. It's called 'Seek and Destroy'," Chris said, readying an energy ball of his own just as chairs began to scrape back all over the room as the first sounds of running feet hit their ears. Ben and Chris looked at each other, grinned, and unleashed their weapons into the room.

Demons were incinerated left, right and centre as they ran and dodged and weaved away, furiously trying to cram into the small doorway that counted as an exit. They cowered behind overturned tables, which were blasted into woodchips. Demons were going up in flames with shrieks and flares under the onslaught. Furniture was wrecked and tossed into the walls and the bar, which was peppered with scorch marks.

The bartender went up in smoke as the bottles on the optics behind him were blown up with some strangely-large explosions. The pool table was overturned and an energy ball smacked right into the bull's-eye on the darts board, cracking it in two and knocking it to the floor. Weapons streaked out of the room and through the doors, catching demons fleeing on foot in the backs and vanquishing them as they ran.

Some transported themselves away, eager, apparently, to live as energy balls were sent flying through the air, killing their comrades and shattering glass, snapping wood, sparking off metal and giving life to small, flickering fires. Not a single demon was courageous enough to retaliate as explosions rocked the joint until the place was littered with smouldering piles of grainy ash and was lit solely by young, greedy crackling fires that were consuming falling liquids with odd-coloured flares and the splinters that half of the furniture and been reduced to.

"Looks like your show has just been cancelled," Chris growled, spinning and throwing an energy ball at the screen behind him as Ben took out the projector in front of them in a shower of sparks and a colossal crash as it fell to the ground.

"How do you feel?" Ben asked, slowly working out a kink in his neck.

"Like too many of them got away," Chris snarled and, off Ben's smirk of agreement, shimmered out of the ruins with his best friend.

_**Learning to Tango**_

_**I get the feeling that, when I wake up tomorrow and check my inbox, I'm going to be assaulted by numerous blunt implements for this chapter. Uh-oh. I guess I'm going to be doing a little bit of laying low…**_

**_Oh! And the flashback. Yes, we'll see the second part of the flashback, but not in this chapter in the next one, and not from Bridget's point of view. I tried cramming it into this one, but it was akin to ramming a square block into the round hole. _**

_**Thank you all so much for reviewing and, I know you're tired of hearing me say that I'm sorry for the wait, but I am. This took more time that I could have anticipated and, at only nearly eighteen pages, was shorter somehow too. The moral of this? Life's crazy.**_

**Altaira: - Heh. Google is a friend to us all when it comes to researching plots and stuff. It was a little ridiculous on the update time, but life's been hectic bordering on manic recently. Thank you very much for your review and, in regards to the flashback, see above.**

**ACharmedJedi: - HEH! The Half Blood Prince! Wow, that was so long ago… I feel really bad now. Oops. Yeah… I hear giving birth hurts a lot. Thank you for your review.**

**Whisper17: - HA! No. No, no birth for me. I'm a wimp. Really, I am. And, aw. Thanks so much. I liked your review. Ben and Chris and the flashback will be appearing shortly, methinks. Well not shortly. School starts September 5th (ARGH. ARRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRGH) so it might be a little weird for a while. However, I get more writing done at school. I get caught up with deadlines, and I write fic in boring classes… But yeah. Innyhoo, I think I should say thank you.**

**Pixie Wildfire: - HEH: Glare :**

**Chattypandagurl: - Can you even BUY Spaghetti-Os anymore? Hm… I want some. Yes, I was very excited. Very excited. I didn't sleep. I don't not sleep much anymore. I'm getting OOOOOOOOOLD. Anyway, thanks for reviewing. I'm going to go and put a ski mask on and raid my local supermarket's canned food aisle. I _will_ find Spaghetti-Os…**

**ilovedrew88: - Well, soon… Yeah. Well, hey. I did try. I guess you're gonna be one of the ones plotting to stone me to death, huh? Uh-oh. I'll hide. Later. After bedtime… Yay. Sleep. Thanks for reviewing.**

**Aldrea7: - Yes, yes you do. Go get some Methylphenidate right now. I'll be waiting. In the meantime, thanks for reviewing.**

**Stony Angel: - Well, I did say it would be sad… Heh. I know you did just great with the classes, honey, so that's not so bad. And we've found Leo! Yay! I'll see you tomorrow, hope your ankle gets better.**

_**Well, that is that for another chapter. Thank you for your reviews, I think this is the most I've got in a while. I'm happy. And school starts soon. Uh-oh. But, well, I get more done in school time usually, because I get caught up in the deadlines and I write in the dull classes, so… Fingers crossed I get my lazy ass up and finish this fic before 2006, huh?**_

_**Thank you all,  
**__**Twisted Flame**_

"**_A child of five would understand this! Someone fetch me a child of five!" — Groucho Marx. _**


	17. Chapter 17

Chris instinctively dropped his head as he had shimmered away to fully bask in the sheer intense feeling of the power. First you went translucent and then transparent, and then that warm feeling rushed over you and made sure that you forgot everything bad that had happened to you — ever.

It was vaguely scary but that didn't matter; it was magnetic and mesmeric and so… vibrant and powerful in a way a flame was to a lost, fluttering moth. The sweet susurrus of the power reaching his ears and feeling like warm air blowing gently on his face made him certain that, if he didn't have a mission, he knew that he would be hard-pressed to stop himself shimmering all over just to avoid the pain he felt every time he reappeared. He couldn't deny that he did have a mission, however — an important one. Thirst for vengeance was boiling through him, fuelled by the demonic powers in his possession.

Which was why he was currently on a pit-stop in the attic to take a look at the Book of Shadows and get in some serious cramming of anything and everything demonic before heading back down to the Underworld. Forewarned was forearmed, after all. As his head had bowed from his last shimmer he had a good view of his hand as it reappeared and it was trembling like a leaf in a strong wind. He was totally buzzed, and he knew it. He felt as if a million cups of coffees' worth of caffeine had been injected into his veins all at once; he felt like he had grabbed a live wire. He was invincible, he could do anything. He not only could but _would_ slay the entire Underworld — he had both the power and means, not to mention the drive. It would be protecting Wyatt and avenging Bridget all at once. He and Ben had vanquished any demon which had had the unpropitious luck of stumbling across them. Now, however, the mindless killing of demons that mattered so little on the overall hierarchy Down There had lost its appeal and it was time to look up a few things, see if he could pick up any hints as to where some higher-level nasties were lurking.

As Ben appeared, however, the room seemed to lurch violently and the witch-whitelighter staggered backwards a few paces, grabbing blindly at a sideboard to hold himself upright. He gulped down air, trying to quench the sudden burning he felt in his heart. His knuckles were glowing white as he clung to the polished wooden surface and it felt as if there were iron bands around his lungs. His arms were shaking as if he were cold, even though that was not the case., He looked up and saw Ben, oblivious, making his way towards the podium on which the Book rested. Shaking it off to join his friend and make sure he got his share of the fun, Chris sucked in two deep breaths, managed to straighten up and ignore what was happening to him.

His friend stretched out his arms towards the tome and was about to place his hands on the worn leather cover when the book glowed a bright red and propelled itself across the room. It landed in the centre of a circular rug a few steps from Chris's feet. The witch-whitelighter raised his eyebrows at the volume but walked over and bent to retrieve it. Once again the booked flared incandescently, shooting away from him across the floor, skittering to rest under a bookcase.

"Oh, come on! Gimme a break!" Chris groaned, throwing his hands in the air and climbing to his feet. He glared reproachfully at the Book's dark hiding place. "You're more than happy to let Wyatt pick you up, and I'm only _borrowing _evil powers!"

Ben sighed burdensomely and got down on his knees in front of the bookcase to jam his arm up to his elbow underneath it. His fingers were barely brushing the silk marker that currently protruded haphazardly from the side of the book about halfway through such was the effectiveness of the volume's chosen hiding place. Although it did seem to Ben that the Book had overlooked a main disadvantage of this: it was effectively cornered. It couldn't go backwards owing to the wall, nor could it go sideways due to the fact that it was never fit between the stout legs of the item of furniture it had chosen to conceal itself. It could only go forwards into Ben's grasp. So, suddenly, it did. It had spun itself around so that its spine was facing outwards and cracked itself with venom against Ben's kneecap. The witch yelped with pain and half-fell, half-dove reflexively backwards, allowing the book to slide across the floor to the base of its stand, which it knocked over. Chris dived for it but it evaded his grasp by launching itself across the wooden boards to bump into the base of a chest of drawers topped with filled potion vials. They had been upset by the sudden motion and had toppled over, a couple rolling to the edge of the surface to plunge to the floor, where they shattered and exploded when they mixed. The noxious brew proceeded to blow a hole right through the boards deep enough so that the plaster of the ceiling below them became visible. Something sparked and an indignant croak sounded before a frog jumped out of the smouldering hole to hop across the room, where it randomly combusted into a puff of orange smoke and was gone.

The door suddenly burst open so hard that it bounced off the wall, denting it, and sharply dissipated the coils of fluorescent smoke. Phoebe and Paige had arrived with potions at the ready. The elder, upon seeing her nephew sprawled across the floor and Ben rubbing his kneecap and cursing under his breath, threw her hands into the air exasperatedly with a dramatic eye roll and lowered her potion to her side. "You two! We thought we were in the middle of a full-scale demon invasion! Gods, you sure know how to scare a pair of girls to death!" She stamped her foot and huffed, glaring at each of them in turn.

Paige, her vial still in her hand and readied, narrowed her eyes, taking in the new ventilation hole in the floor and the fact that the Book of Shadows appeared to be cowering behind a trunk. "Would you mind telling us what _exactly_ you're doing?"

Chris sat up on his elbows and bit his lip. "Trying to look at the Book," he said sheepishly, realising how ridiculous it must look. "Sorry." He didn't know what he was apologising for, though, not really. What had he actually done? Just tried to look at his family's heritage as he had done a million times before — why was it such a big deal? But, maybe, if he mollified his aunts, they'd go away back to their stupid, ignorant lives and finally _leave them be_ for once. He blinked suddenly at these thoughts, slowly shaking his head. What was happening to him?

Phoebe, her suspicions renewed after belatedly seeing what her sister had, asked, "What for?" She walked across the room slowly, giving her nephew and his friend a wide berth and picking up the Book from the floor, hugging it to her chest and frowning at them as she righted the stand and replaced the tome.

Chris turned around and looked his aunt incredulously up and down. "'What for'?" he echoed, scratching the back of his head and snorting. Ben walked over to him and extended a hand to help him from the floor. As he was pulled to his feet, he turned to his aunt, swallowing, disbelief in his eyes. "You really need to ask that?"

Phoebe semi-conceded with a tired tilt of her head and a heavy sigh, hoisting the heavy book back into her arms. They wanted to look up demons, as they had been doing for months. In earnest now, though, after Bridget… They were going on a grief-fuelled spree with borrowed powers that were in no way beneficial to them. She freed a hand from her burden and rubbed it tiredly over her eyes, crossing to the couch and sinking into it. She gently placed the Book precisely on the coffee table in front of her, taking her time to line it up with the corners exactly. The middle sister ran a manicured nail gently down the spine, tracing the triquetera absently. Why was this her family's safety-valve? What did it say about them, that every time something very bad happened — like the loss of someone they loved — they went and killed things to let it all out? "Chris…" she semi-sighed, semi-groaned, rubbing at her temple.

Paige sat down next to her sister, her hands trapped nervously between her legs and her lips pursed in a way that Chris, had he not been so caught up in both his exasperation and his mission, would have interpreted as guilty. Her toes were screwed up in her shoes to stop her feet jigging up and down and giving her nervousness away. This was going to be hard. Resigning herself to the fact that it would all be for their own good, she took a deep breath. "I… Well, we… Phoebe and I think that— Crystals, circle!"

Five crystals orbed themselves from previously-placed, strategic points around the attic to surround Ben and Chris. Briefly, they flared white and crackled into a cage before settling down to glow benignly on the floor. Momentarily stunned and failing to process what had just happened, all the two witches could do was stand there in shock even as the fluttering orbing lights faded, firmly imprisoning them.

"Uh… what?" Ben said, laughing uneasily and looking from sister to sister. "What's going on?"

Phoebe slapped her hands decisively against her thighs and stood up. "An intervention. For your own good." She blinked hard when she realised that her own words had been presupposed exactly by Chris and he was parroting them back at her at the same time as she was uttering them, mimicking her cruelly. She glared, unimpressed. He held her gaze though, and the flickers of scattered, twisted emotions crossing his green eyes scared her enough to be the one to drop her eyes first.

"This isn't the right way to do things. You both know that…" Paige paused, catching their mutinous glares which only served to remind her just how young they really both were, "sSomewhere."

"Okay, fine. So, tell us, Paige. I mean, if you're so omniscient now, then how _do _we do it? Tell us how. Regale us with your mighty tales of wisdom," Chris said, sarcasm oozing malignantly from him.

Paige sniffed, choosing to rise above it because he was obviously hurting so much, even if the only sign of his torment was the darkening of his eyes. "You… you let it go. You…" Paige sighed, realising that she and Chris and the other occupants of the room knew that she was spouting forth therapists' rubbish; empty words that she did not believe to be true. She had never let the death of her parents go, not until she had gone back in time to see them and try to save them; not until she had had a visit from them in the present to tell her that they were proud of her.

"You need to mourn," Phoebe said. "You need to grieve for Bridget instead of bottling it up and putting it on the sidelines so you can run around looking for revenge." Chris had had to conceal a flinch at her name, she noted sadly, and tears pricked her eyes.

A thought occurred to her and Phoebe realized that this grief… wasn't all over Bridget. The two of them never had properly acknowledged Nixa's violent death so many months ago — they seemed to have just pushed it away instead, choosing to ignore it entirely in order to solider onwards with saving Wyatt. She grimaced. Now that Bridget had gone too, those bottled up feelings had exploded.

Exhaling, she dragged a hand through her hair, a salon appointment she had — of all things — coming to the forefront of her mind. Her fingers came to rest at the base of her neck and she gently worked the pressure point there, glad for the first time since she had had her powers removed that she was no longer an empath. This was already a three aspirin job even without her powers.

"Grieve," Chris said, cocking his head and trying out the word as if he had never heard of it. "Now, huh. Why didn't I think of that?" He paced towards the very edge of the crystal cage and felt the hair on his arms begin to stand on end with the power of it and stepped back irritably. He could tell that Phoebe and Paige didn't appreciate his sarcasm when they were only trying to help, but he didn't _care. _He paced some more like a caged beast in what little space he had. This _was _him coping — didn't they get that? Killing those responsible for Bridget's death was satisfying — it made sure that her death wasn't in vain. It got something accomplished — Bridget would never want to go un-avenged.

He could hear her now: it was one of the articles in a will she'd once written on a paper napkin. Something along the lines of, 'Should I die and my friends not kick the ass of the party responsible, I vow to come back and haunt them forever. Also, should I die, if you give my penny collection to my ungodly bitch of a cousin, I will come back from the grave and drop the entire jar on her head while she sleeps'. And, besides, who was Phoebe to tell him to grieve? It was a well-documented fact that Paige had been discovered after Phoebe went to get vengeance on Shax for her sister's death with her dead ex-husband. He guessed hypocrisy was another Halliwell trait that went hand-in-hand with revenge.

"Look, we only want to help you. Which is why we're going to brew a power-stripping potion. Well, have been brewing, actually." Phoebe laughed nervously at the looks their lack of trust received from Chris and Ben.

"What for?" Ben asked, blinking.

"'What for'?" Phoebe spluttered. "You have to ask what for?" She was unpleasantly aware that this conversation had now done a full circle, and might continue to do so if prolonged. "I'll tell you what for. To stop you from destroying yourself with demonic powers. They're not a good thing, alright? They mess with your mind. They, they, they screw with you until you can't think straight and make you do things you regret. Trust me: I know." She did know, and the memories still hurt her every time she went over them. Could she have been stronger and beaten the pull of evil? Probably. Could she have managed to ignore the call of her unborn child? Perhaps… no. It never could have been done. It meant that she knew what it was like, though, she could empathise with what they were going through, and the bad visions from her past brought emotion into her voice, making it unsteady and liable to crack as she went on. "You may start off thinking you're in control of them and are using them justly for vengeance, but soon enough you'll just be doing it for the buzz — the kill. And before you know it, you're going to wake up from it like, like, from a bad drug trip and realise that either you're full-on demonic or that you've killed someone you care about. And, by the time that happens…"

"…you'll be screwed," Paige finished bluntly. "Karmically, cosmically, emotionally screwed. And forgive us for wanting to save you both from that," she finished, tilting her head upwards, defiance glittering in her eyes. "So, you're going to stay there, _misters_, until we fix this and, what's more, you're gonna like it, got it?" Nodding decisively, Paige spun on a heel and stalked out of the attic, a somewhat in-awe Phoebe in tow.

When the attic door had been clicked quietly shut behind them, Phoebe said, "Oh my _God, _Paige. Where did you learn to do that?"

"Eh, it's just a little something-something I picked up," Paige said dismissively, starting down the stairs and hoping she hadn't set the kitchen on fire by leaving the potion simmering.

"It was _good,_" Phoebe said in amazement. It was actually akin to something Piper would say — the tone was right and everything. Paige, she supposed, had been spending more time around Piper and the boys than she had, what with her temp jobs giving her more downtime than her job at the paper allowed, and she felt suddenly envious, but it quickly passed. "You know, I was actually a little scared," Phoebe said, following Paige into the upper hallway. She put an arm through Paige's and smiled triumphantly. "I think that plan worked out rather well, don't you?"

Paige smirked and raised her potion vial, clinking it together in a toast with Phoebe's. "Very well acted, don't you think? They didn't know what had hit them." They laughed a little and descended the last staircase together down onto the ground floor, accomplishment making them beam.

_**Learning to Tango**_

The fireball streaked across the room before clashing violently with the crackling bars of the crystal cage and erupting into an explosion. Chris growled in frustration and readied another in his palm, hurling that as well. The cage sprung up again, dissipating the demonic weapon into a shower of sparks. The tendons were standing out in his neck and his eyes were wild as he conjured yet another ball of fire to spin atop his palm and manifest itself in flickering flecks of gold in his irises. He let out a loud yell as he threw it, harder than any of the others, and yet the cage still held firm. The witch-whitelighter kicked out at someone invisible as his roving flashing eyes looked around the tiny enclosure for something to help with the escape plan. All he saw was Ben, lying on his back with his hands behind his head and staring up at the rafters, lost, and he heaved a hefty sigh, flopping down onto the floor. Wrapping his arms around his knees, he looked wistfully at the sunshine streaming through the coloured windowpanes. Light that Bridget wouldn't ever feel on her skin again… He rested his chin on his knees, biting his bottom lip as it threatened to wobble.

"Penny for them?" Ben said, sitting up and grabbing his ankles to hold himself there.

Chris half-turned towards his best friend, having only heard a fractured version of what Ben had said, as if his friend's voice was coming at him from down a long tunnel. "Hm?"

Ben smiled sadly, exhaling and lying back down to continue his observation of the ceiling. "Yeah," he said, sympathising with Chris's abject lack of focus. He was replaying Bridget's last moments over and over again in his mind, trying to work out if he could have done something. No, he already knew that he could have done something. He was just trying to work out what it was and when it was that he could have done it; when it was that he should have jumped in and saved her from it all, managed to evade her guards and take her away to be healed. He wasn't sure if it had fully sunk in yet. It was like he was at the bottom of a deep body of water, and realisation was a single shaft of sunlight that was being filtered and filtered and filtered by the greenish water to the point of extinction, until only the vaguest sparkles reached him. He was in an oneiric trance, living out the minutes of his life like he was one of the Undead. The fact was there, but it hadn't hit him. He got the feeling that, when it finally did hit, he'd wish he'd been hit by an eighteen wheeler instead. "What are you thinking about?"

"The day we first met Bridget," Chris said, a slow smile spreading across his features and lingering for a split second before it dropped right off into oblivion again.

That same smile was infectious and it spread to Ben. Grinning lopsidedly, the witch laughed a little. "She had a total crush on Wyatt, didn't she?" he said, sitting up again. His face darkened a little, the grin fading as he realised that he would never tease her about that again.

"Probably…" Chris said distractedly, his mind probably choosing simply not to hear something that he disagreed with when it was in such a fragile state. "Do you remember she just burst into this warehouse with the demon in tow, totally not even realising that she was being chased?"

"Heh. Yeah… we were knocking over ice statues, right?" Ben said fondly, a warmth penetrating his eyes that had been long-absent. "I remember that. Wyatt screwed up and we ended up facing them all. We thought we'd got them all, and then the real one appeared…" He was talking animatedly, the memory obviously still fresh and exciting in his mind. "We were what, like, twelve?"

"Wishful thinking. We were both more like ten, nearly eleven. Nixa would have been eleven. Bridget… Eight? Nine? I don't know. Her birth date was always suspiciously moveable."

Ben laughed again. "Yeah, she was eighteen how many times? Three?"

"Something like that. She was so busy trying to be older that when she did hit nineteen, she decided she didn't like it and wanted to be eighteen again. So she was." Chris rubbed the back of his neck, staring at the floorboards fondly. Ben was staring off into the distance as well, smiling, both of them replaying the day they had met Bridget in their heads.

_Exhausted, Chris and Ben had collapsed against a stack of crates, eyelids weighted heavily with sleep. The adrenaline that had been keeping them fighting was rapidly dissipating now, leaving them with nothing but the will to sleep. Exerting that much energy in such a small space of time was not something the two children had ever had to do before — other people fought for their lives, they were spirited away to safer places. _

"_There!" Bridget shouted eagerly, tugging on Nixa's sleeve. Another demon to kill! Hadn't she just wished for that? Her cries jolted both of the witches out of their semi-doze long enough to hear the scuffling of feet behind them. It took Nixa screaming a warning for the ten-year-olds to try to scramble to their feet, but they were too slow. It was with ease that the demon lifted the two witches from the concrete floor by their collars, and by the time they had started to struggle, it had smirked at Bridget and Nixa and shimmered away._

_It was gloomy in the corner they reappeared in. Thick grey cobwebs were strung from the ceiling and wall to the crate on which they were standing, and the wooden slatted surface was covered in a layer of dust which was stirred up when the demon moved to shimmer in the weak shaft of sunlight teasing its way through a small gap between the roof and the top of the wall. The demon had to duck to refrain from hitting its head on the steel girders above them that supported the roof._

_Ben's writhing paid off as he finally made contact with the demon, driving a trainer into its abdomen. The demon doubled over slightly, his grip on Chris loosening enough for the small witch-whitelighter to fall free. He hit the edge of the crate hard before bouncing slightly and tumbling over the precipice. _

"_Chris!" Ben yelled as a very audible _thump _reached his ears. "Let me go!"_

_The demon sneered and swung Ben around so that his feet were dangling in midair over the same drop which Chris had so recently tumbled. The witch looked down. Below him, Chris was sprawled, unconscious, on the top crate of a stack that ended about three metres below them. Turning ninety degrees the demon swept Ben for the briefest of seconds over the solid ground of the wooden crate lid beneath them before dangling Ben over the other edge of the crate. There was no adjacent stack here to fall on — just a straight fourteen metre drop to the concrete floor below._

"_Shall I let you go now?" the demon asked, shaking Ben up and down and pretending to let go._

"_No," the witch squeaked, breathing quickly and in great gulps. Sweat was running down his back, making his T-shirt cling to him. How had this happened? They had been fighting demons really well, and they had had Wyatt and Chris's mom and his aunts with them, and nothing could ever beat them, ever. He looked down and felt very dizzy, not realising that the demon could feel him trembling like a tiny animal even though he was only holding onto his collar._

_The demon laughed, casually throwing Ben across the lid of the crate. Splinters gouged into the witch's flesh even through his clothing, and the landing had split his forehead open. Whimpering and half-blinded with blood, the child curled up, willing the pain to go away. He wished he hadn't come. He wished he'd just stayed at Magic School where, whilst it was very boring, there were no demons to hurt him. He had thought it was going to be fun, though. People always came back from vanquishing demons looking happy, so why shouldn't it be fun?_

"_I knew we'd reach an agreement," the demon told him, shimmering away._

"We came out of that fight _so _well," Chris said, rolling his eyes. "I can't believe I didn't see why Mom didn't want us fighting demons. We sucked and just ended up with our asses kicked."

"It was glamorous," Ben said with a shrug. "To us, it seemed like the people who mattered most in our lives — our families — were the ones doing it; the ones having fun, and we were missing out."

"We were dumb."

"Hey, hey, what's with all this 'we'?" Ben asked suddenly, holding his hands up in the universal 'stop' motion. "_You _may have been dumb, but I was _always_ the smart one." When Chris only stared at him, Ben eventually dropped the façade of seriousness, rolling his eyes and grinning, shrugging in a 'you've-got-to-try' kind of gesture.

"How many pairs of rose-coloured glasses are you _wearing_?" Chris asked with a laugh of disbelief, dragging his legs closer to him and wrapping his arms around them. He had just felt a chill pass through the room, but he didn't know if he had imagined it or not. Maybe it was because, in his heart, he could feel that he was betraying Bridget. He could feel that laughing here was insulting her memory.

_The demon was holding an unconscious Chris over his shoulder in a firemen's carry when he reappeared, and he wasted no time seizing Ben too. The witch's eyes were closed and the demon thought for a second that he had been knocked out, but then he saw that the child's eyes were screwed too tightly closed, and he was muttering something over and over again under his breath, his lips barely moving._

"_Knock it off, kid," the demon said, shaking the small witch. "It's not gonna help you."_

_Ben cracked an eye open at the demon's words, and was about to form a question on his lips when the demon shimmered out with them. When they reappeared, it was all but pitch black. There was a very small amount of light coming into the tiny room. The demon was crouched right down and could barely fit. The floor underneath them was of the same carpet of jagged splinters that had gouged at Ben on the lid of the crate, and the witch suddenly realised that they were _inside _a crate. He began thrashing around, but hit his hand hard on the side of the crate, and when he connected with the demon, the demon only recoiled and accidentally smashed a fist down on one side of the large circular object wrapped in numerous layers of packaging that the crate had been designed for. It tipped sharply, Ben's side rising up and cracking the witch's head against the lid of the crate. Stunned, Ben went momentarily limp, the small ray of light swirling in and out of focus until the demon shimmered away._

"_Chris," Ben said, the stars he was seeing slowly receding back into the darkness. His voice was small despite his best effort to try and swallow his fear. "Chris, are you awake?" He crawled over to his best friend, blood dripping onto his hand from his head. He looked down at where he thought it would be and whimpered again before crawling on. Chris was in the middle of the depression of the circular object in the crate and Ben gently got onto it so as not to tip it again. "Chris?"_

_Chris had to wake up so he could orb them out of here. It wasn't a good idea to stay in here. Humans needed air and stuff and he didn't know how much there was in here. It was really dark as well. Really, really dark. It would have been totally black had it not been for the small hole in the corner of the crate where someone had probably bumped it. What if they never got out? What if no one found them and they stayed in here until they got hungry enough to die, like animals did when there was a dry season in Africa? He would never get to see his mommy or his brothers or his dad again._

_He suddenly found it very hard to breathe and, convinced that this was because they were already needing air and not realising that it was because he was panicking, he crawled back over Chris to the split in the wood and tilted his face up to it so that one eye was blinded by the brilliance, clouding his vision with spots._

_If they didn't get out, would anyone miss them? Or did they all not like them and didn't care? He was breathing faster and faster now, a combination of dust and fear clogging his throat. He didn't want to die. He was only a little while away from being old enough for his brothers to let him play with them. Would they be really sad?_

_He whimpered and curled up tighter, closing his eyes so that the blood behind the one eyelid in the light glared at him, like a fierce, rubicund alpenglow. He tried to call out, but his vocal cords were paralysed with fear, and all that came out was a strangled half-sob. He was never going to see anything again. He was never going to taste ice-cream again, nor was he ever going to get to laugh with his friends as they rolled around on the grass at recess. Never ever again. He sniffed and, although he was trying to be brave, two tears rolled down his cheeks._

_He looked back into the darkness, blind in one eye from the sudden change from light to dark and he could almost see the black walls of his prison closing in on him to crush him and Chris forever and ever, because no one was ever going to find them, not ever, and there wasn't going to be enough air and they didn't have any food…_

"_Where did he go with them?" Bridget demanded, turning on Nixa. "Where did he take them too? We have to save them!" She grabbed Nixa's wrist and tugged, almost pulling the blonde over before she righted herself again, counterbalancing Bridget's surge in forward motion by pulling backwards._

"_It's okay. Chris can orb right back to us. He always does it," Nixa told her, turning around and looking at the Charmed Ones and Wyatt. Wyatt was still unconscious and so was Piper, but Phoebe was stirring gently and Paige's eyelids were fluttering too. Maybe they'd wake up soon and sort the mess right out. They always did that. They were very smart and powerful._

"_But he _hasn't_," Bridget reminded her earnestly, her eyes glinting with unshed tears. "So we have to _save _them. We _have _to…" She was beginning to lean more and more towards a whine without realising it, which just made Nixa not want to go with her more. She didn't want to have to look after someone smaller than her. She wanted to wake up Phoebe and Paige and Piper and Wyatt and they could get a potion and kill the demon and save Ben and Chris and then they could all go home._

"_No! Chris will appear, and—"_

"_Did you little girls miss me?" Nixa and Bridget whipped around to see the demon standing behind them. He was leaning casually on one of the industrial-sized shelving units that housed the multiple crates in the warehouse. "I'm sorry, but I had to deal with those two naughty little boys."_

"_What did you to with them?" Nixa asked, putting her hands on her hips and frowning, as her mother would do if she were telling her off. It was what always worked on her younger sister, Lenora, anyway._

"_Yeah! What did you do with them?" Bridget demanded belatedly, nodding and moving to stand next to Nixa. "You have to tell us."_

"_Why?"_

"_Because… because…" Bridget stamped her foot in frustration unable to find the words, "because… I-I-I said so, and you have to do as I say because you're not very nice."_

_The demon blinked once, twice, at the strange audacity of the small thing in front of him. "You _are_ a brave little goblin, aren't you?" he said, with surprise. "Shame you're not going to grow up to become a full-fledged Hunter. You'd be almost worthy of killing."_

"_K-killing?" Bridget squeaked, stepping back a little way and balling her fists, her eyes widening. "Why are you going to do that?"_

"_Do you want to take this one or shall I?" the demon asked of Nixa._

_The blonde frowned at him, her eyes slightly narrowed as she tried to work out what the demon meant. "Take what?" she asked, finally admitting defeat._

_The demon threw its hand up in the air. "Your strength," it told her before pausing and contemplating with narrowed eyes. "What, you kids don't realise this? You don't realise that you're going to be hunted for the rest of your lives because you're different?" The demon broke off into laughter that echoed around the girls' brains chillingly, making them shiver. "Maybe, once you're dead, they'll know that trying to keep you innocent was a bad idea."_

_The demon was about to conjure an energy ball in its palm when there was a loud explosion above it. A crate had been blown to pieces. The two crates above it immediately fell through the lid of their caved-in predecessor, splintering it into even more stakes of wood. All was silent for tense, breath-holding moment before, slowly, the sound of cracking and groaning reached the occupants' ears and a single plank of wood fell to the floor with a clatter, the rest of the wreckage shifting like a landslide. The demon looked up and shimmered out just before the cascading wood crushed him. Nixa and Bridget both threw themselves backwards instinctively, landing hard on their backs and debris blew out from the concrete floor. The demon shimmered back in behind them._

"_You leave those kids alone!"_

_It was Piper's voice. The two hunters turned to the source of it, their eyes gleaming with hope. The look on her face was truly terrifying, and they led their in awe of her. Her brown eyes seemed to glint as if frozen solid, and her mouth was pinched, her lips a thin line. Light was spilling in from behind her and, although she was standing wobbly on her feet, she was haloed in gold all around._

"_What are you going to do? Blow me up?" the demon sneered, powering up an energy ball._

"_Oh, we might," Paige said, rising to her feet and leaning slightly on her sister for support, "but I've got this hunch that you're _really_ not gonna like the way in which we're going to do it._

"_Arrogance. Once I'm done with them, you'll both be next."_

"_Oh, really?" Phoebe asked, cocking an eyebrow and she limped to stand beside her sisters, also leaning on Piper in order to stay upright. "Well, call me old-fashioned, but I'd say that _that_ was arrogance. Oh, and about the being next part? I beg to differ."_

_The demon turned his energy ball onto the two girls lying, shaking, at his feet and grinned. "You're right. You can't be next unless someone goes first. You want to choose which one of them gets it first? Or aren't you fussy? I could just do both, if you'd prefer."_

"_Stay. Away. From. Those. KIDS!" Piper growled, flicking her wrists and blowing a huge chunk of concrete out of the floor. The chips blew into the air and then thundered lightly to the floor, clattering like hailstones. The remaining chunk was lifted from the floor to slam into the demon's torso, causing its energy ball to spiral lazily skywards and vanquish a large portion of the roof. Dust hissed as it rained to the floor and surrounding crates; chunks of steel support beam clanged to the ground around them and smoking debris from what had been the roofing substance of choice for the building plunged downwards._

"_Throw it."_

_They had one remaining potion that had been lost in the previous battle. Paige had called for it as soon as she had regained something resembling consciousness and had held it pressed into her palm until the dancing lights in front of her vision had stopped their games, until the tingling in her legs had ceased and until the warehouse had stopped randomly dimming and swirling around her. When that had happened, she had crawled towards her sisters, only to find Phoebe already awake and gently shaking Piper, keeping a wary eye on the situation with Bridget and Nixa and the demon. As to where their nephew and his friend were they had no idea, but they had had bigger fish to fry and actual lives to save in the form of the two scared little girls, so they had become a back-burner priority for the time being. They had finally woken Piper up and she had fired a warning shot into a stack of crates, nearly crushing their foe in the onslaught of wood._

_Paige raised her arm to throw the potion just as the demon recovered and quickly fired off two energy balls in rapid succession. The three objects streaked past each other in midair. However, the energy balls proved faster and one smashed into the floor at the Charmed Ones' feet, throwing them backwards in a fusillade of concrete chips into a stack of crates, whilst the other one annihilated the bottom one of the stack just above their heads, so that the whole tower creaked and groaned ominously before beginning to fall like a house of cards, had a house of cards weighed around a ton and been any danger to anyone cowering beneath._

_A ripple of searing air leftover from the energy balls hit the potion and the vial wobbled before being lurched violently off its trajectory and veering too far left. Just as the top crate began to tumble, Nixa launched herself up from the floor, her leg muscles firing as hard as she could make them and snatched the small bottle out of midair. She fell back to the concrete hard and bounced once, twice, before the entire stack of crates, turned into flaming spears of charred wood and a fine black powder of immolated contents crashed to the floor, scattering the remnants of fluttering orbing lights in its wake._

_Bridget gasped suddenly, entirely overrun with everything that was happening at once as Nixa gritted her teeth and threw the potion as hard as she could from or her position on the floor at the demon's chest. The vial flew through the air in the perfect arc, shattering across the demon's chest and spattering potion across its torso, which began to bubble and sear, before the demon screeched. The Charmed Ones orbed in just in time to witness the last of its death throes before it turned into a fireball and disappeared into a sprinkling of ash._

_Nixa immediately collapsed back to the floor, clutching her arm and crying out in pain, hot tears surging from her eyes. The Charmed Ones all took off as one, their own maternal instincts propelling them to sprint across the concrete all at once to Nixa's side. They crowded around the child, looking grimly at the splintered bone stabbing through her skin like some kind of gory high-rise building. Bridget, her mouth working wordlessly, took a deep breath and fell backwards into a dead faint._

"You know, that was our first battle, and we missed practically all of it," Ben remarked, frowning as this fact occurred to him. "It's not fair. Nixa and Bridget got all the glory, and Bridget wasn't even conscious when we finally orbed out of the warehouse." He snorted and folded his arms over his chest.

"Hey, you do realise that you're pouting, right?" Chris teased lightly, smirking as Ben gave him a withering look.

"What, you were _thrilled _that we got shut in a dark box for the duration?" Ben asked, slightly snappishly, making both himself and Chris blink at his tone.

"No… But, well, you know. It's not like there weren't other vanquishes that we managed to do right."

"But this was our _first _one and everything," Ben persisted, still frowning. "I just don't think it's—"

"—fair. Yeah, I got that."

"It was okay for you. You were unconscious the _entire time _we were trapped in there. You didn't have to keep checking every five seconds that you hadn't _died._"

Chris sighed and rubbed a hand across his eyes. Ben always got angry and defensive when it came around to talking about his being claustrophobic. It was not a point he'd ever discuss at any length at all, and Chris wasn't entirely sure that even Bridget knew about it. Nixa, perhaps, but he didn't think Ben would tell Bridget, because she always managed to portray herself as fearless. Besides, Ben had pretty much brought on this discussion by himself, anyway, so he would just sit here and let him rant and wait for it to blow over.

"You know, would it have killed you to have _woken up_ and orbed us the hell out—" the witch broke off, clutching at his chest. He made gulping sounds but Chris could tell that his friend's lungs were not obtaining any air. Ben's mouth was working wordlessly and he gripped the fabric of his shirt until his hand shook and his knuckles became nearly transparent. Slowly, whatever was happening began to abate, and Ben gradually uncurled his fist, leaving a very rumpled shirt-front in its wake.

"What happened?" Chris asked, thinking that he already had a pretty good idea. If he had had a mirror earlier, he was about ninety-five percent sure that he would have had the exact same expression on his face.

"I… don't know. It happened earlier; in the Underworld. I had this searing pain in my heart, and I was dizzy, and I couldn't breathe… It felt like I was suffocating… It's probably nothing. I haven't eaten and what with Bridget…"

"It's the powers," Chris said bluntly as Ben broke off. "We've got to face it. Phoebe and Paige are right. These really aren't made for us." He shrugged lightly, but the regret was betrayed in his eyes. He could have _used _them. He could have used them to find out who — or what — it was that had fucked up Wyatt. He could have used to them to avenge Bridget. And he would have controlled them, he really would have done. He was stronger than his aunts took him for. Just because he didn't happen to be twice-blessed did not mean that he couldn't handle a little bit of power and stay responsible with it. Ironic, really, that he was thinking that because Wyatt had one hell of a lot more than a 'little bit' of power, and he hadn't managed to stay responsible with it, even though Chris had thought that Wyatt had been the second strongest person other than his mother that he knew, growing up.

"I just… I mean, it's not like we couldn't do _good _with them…" Ben paused, looking down at his hands and then turning them over, as if expecting them to burst into flames at any second. He looked back up at Chris hopefully, almost desperately, for confirmation. "Right?"

Chris sighed and stood up, stretching. He yawned until his ears roared with it and then began pacing again, running the thought around in his head. "You don't believe that we can keep these and stay in control, do you?" he finally asked, turning to Ben.

The other witch sighed and dropped his gaze, looking to the floor and shaking his head. "No," he reluctantly admitted, although he felt it necessary for some reason to back-pedal slightly, even though, because Chris felt the same, there was no need to try and save face. "I mean, at first, I thought it was totally possible. Scratch that — it's totally possible _now._ But… but—"

"The pain," Chris said. "The pains are probably because of the powers, right? I guess we can't actually live with them, huh?"

"Honestly? I've… Well, I… I've been kind of wondering why this is the _only _pain I've been feeling."

Chris tilted his head and narrowed his eyes a little, thinking that he was maybe halfway to working out what Ben was talking about, but, then again, maybe he wasn't. It was often like that with Ben. "What do you mean?" he asked slowly, cocking his head.

"I… I mean, this is gonna sound so awful, but… I… I'm not hurting over the fact that Bridget's dead," he said, rushing the end part of the sentence so that the words stumbled and tripped over one another as they jostled for position being spat from his lips. He looked suddenly very ashamed of himself and he looked quickly down at the rug covering the boards he was sitting on, hastily scratching and picking at a loose thread and clearing his throat, partly wishing he hadn't said anything to Chris and partly hating himself for even _thinking _it, despite its truth.

"I know," Chris said quietly. Ben was right. He couldn't really, truly, properly _feel. _Ghosts of emotions flitted briefly across his consciousness, touching his heart briefly before they were gone again like wisps of smoke. He didn't feel guilty over Bridget's death. He didn't feel really very sad, or even particularly depressed. He just… couldn't feel. He knew that his heart should be breaking after Bridget and his baby had died but he couldn't make it, and that, bizarrely, was the emotion that pierced through the ink-black, smog-like curtain that had descended within him. Guilt. Guilt over not feeling guilt was the only thing that could repeatedly manage to penetrate the thick film that had been hastily erected around his heart. On the other hand, rage and hatred were emotions that managed to stab at him and he was so grateful to be feeling at least something that he nearly ignored the fact that those emotions weren't his and were to do with the demonic turmoil surging through him. It was this rage and hatred that had spurred him to go and kill everything demonic in the immediate vicinity — he had misinterpreted the emotions as his own, and who could blame him? He had just lost someone that he loved — emotions like that were only natural. It was only now that he had been put in a magical 'timeout' by his aunts and forced to clam down that he had learned to distinguish.

"All I can feel is anger. I'm just… I don't think I've ever felt my blood boiling as it's doing now. And I hate the demons and I just… want to kill them. And, well, I'm wondering how long that these feelings are going to stay confined to just demons."

"Humans?"

Ben only shrugged weakly, once again ashamed. "Anything with a pulse," he joked feebly, feeling himself paling as the reality of it all set in. "I think your aunts are right. These aren't made for us."

Chris acquiesced with a sigh. He heaved himself up from the floor, looking out of the cage once more at the window and watching the dust motes dance in a stray sunbeam. He knew he should give up the new powers, but doing so would just turn him back into a normal witch — a drop in the ocean of the powers that made up the Greater Good. He would not have the power anymore to exact his revenge or solve the Wyatt riddle — he would be back to banging his head against a wall in an attempt to solve Wyatt's turning. He rubbed a tired hand across his eyes, then pressed the heels of his hands hard into his eye sockets until he was seeing multiple coloured dots behind his eyelids. He was back to thinking about Bridget again. "It… it really took Bridget's innocence away, meeting us, didn't it? It really screwed her life up good."

Ben sighed. "I guess it did." Chris started to talk again, but Ben cut him off, shaking his head. "No."

Chris cocked his head, an imperceptible expression on his face that was, perhaps, partly questioning, partly amused. "'No' what?"

"I know what you're thinking and, no, it wouldn't have been better for her if she'd stayed out of magical life. It wouldn't have been better if she'd never come into that warehouse. She had powers. She was different. If she hadn't met us, then who knows what would have happened? She could have turned out evil or something. And besides, you_ know _how much fun she had with the demon killing. You could see it. She loved it. It made her life… whole. We all gave her a cause and made her life whole."

There was such conviction behind his friend's words that Chris nearly managed to prevent berating himself. "I… suppose so…" he said, still looking troubled, not entirely happy with the ease at which he had agreed to stop blaming himself. "But… It's just that, whilst doing that we pretty much ripped her life apart as well, didn't we? Tore it apart at the seams. All of those times that she got hurt, all of those times that her life sucked entirely because she met us and started to learn about her powers were because of us. You don't think ignorance would have been bliss for her? You don't think she'd like to have been playing with, I don't know, Barbie instead of learning how to dodge a fireball blindfolded?"

Ben pulled a face and frowned, holding his hands up, palms facing Chris. "Whoa, wait, what did you just say? Bridget and _Barbie? _Did you hit your head or something?"

Chris rolled his eyes, dropping his shoulders tiredly. "You know what I mean. Making a… a K-nex pterodactyl to swoop down on an unsuspecting stuffed bunny. Don't you think she would have been happier doing that?"

Ben sighed again, lying back down and staring at the ceiling, rubbing his eyes. "Bridget…" He couldn't find the words to even begin to play the 'con' position in this argument. Chris had instilled doubts on him; doubts that he had never previously thought about. If Bridget never _had _met them, then she'd be in the future right now. She'd be free and she definitely wouldn't have bled out on that slab. But… "She wouldn't have been happier doing that — she'd have been dead," Ben said bluntly. "If she didn't know how to utilise her powers, then she would have been killed long ago. And, if she survived to see herself out of puberty, she would have fallen prey to Wyatt. Remember what happened after she lost her memory that time?

"Either way she would have… left us. Just, this way, she got to have fun first. She got to _live._"

Chris was silent for a while, Ben's words ticking over in his head. Eventually he nodded slowly, conceding reluctantly with a tilt of his head as if Ben had just check-mated him in chess. "I guess… But what about us? All of us? Don't you think that maybe _we_ were meant to live for so much more?"

Ben swallowed, wishing he hadn't heard the question, let alone was required to answer. He had been having a similar crisis of faith ever since Nixa had died. What had happened to them having normal lives? For the gods' sake, Chris and Bridget were going to have a baby. Bridget. Baby. With Chris. It was a blindingly ridiculous concept and should probably have never have happened. He might feel differently if he was an uncle right now, but, well, he wasn't, so it should never have happened — he'd blame it on the messed up timeline because Bridget having a baby? Insane. Totally.

Piper had been so adamant that people could do both, but you couldn't. Not really. Magic was a vortex that just kept drawing you deeper and deeper into the centre every time you were required to use it to save somebody, until, in the end, you couldn't disentangle yourself from it anymore. That's what had happened to them all. With having to constantly battle Wyatt and then hide, and then begin this very small, very vicious cycle all over again, it had happened. Magic had become a way of life instead of just some kind of privilege, and he resented it. It had taken away his family and now two of his best friends to boot. "I guess we don't," Ben said sadly, staring at the floor and picking a thread out of the rug. "And I guess we never will. This is our life — we were apparently meant to live to devote ourselves to magic and a lost cause." He shrugged as the thread got longer and longer before suddenly snapping viciously. "Just go with it, because it's always easier when you just go with it."

"Don't you _want _so much more, though?" Chris persisted, frustrated, needing confirmation that he wasn't the only one feeling so angry and resentful, "don't you want to just…"

"Live?" Ben finished. "Yeah. Yeah, I do. And, if you want the truth, I'm sick of not being able to do it. I'm sick of not being able to turn around without finding a demonic crisis or someone I love dead. But… well, you're probably even more well versed than I am in the whole fate and destiny bullshit, so I don't need to tell you that we got a sucky hand and are totally expected to bluff our way onwards as if we can win. Poker faces at the ready etcetera, etcetera."

Chris gave a wistful snort of relieved laughter. "Huh. Well, at least I'm not the only one who feels like this."

"You're not alone. I mean, hey, I'm still here, right?" Ben attempted a joke, looking down at himself and patting at his torso. "Just had to check… that." His fingers had brushed the paper he had shoved into his back pocket on Bridget's request and he reached in and pulled it out, looking at it and remembering details so precisely that they must have been etched onto his mind. "This… this is for you," he said, handing over the folded piece of paper and noticing for the first time that it had some kind of children's maze on the back. The paper was splotchy with tears and written in crayon so it hadn't, thankfully, run.

"Bridget?" Chris asked, his voice suddenly hoarse.

Ben only nodded in reply, looking at Chris uncertainly. He got up and folded his arms across his chest, trying to do his best to give Chris some time alone in the confined space. Biting his top lip, he stared at the attic wall. He hoped that the note contained some kind of closure for Chris. He hoped that Bridged had written in something about Chris not assigning blame to himself for what had happened to her. He sighed, knowing full well that Bridget's posthumous words would make no difference to the guilt that Chris was tormenting himself with. Or, at any rate, would be tormenting himself with once they got rid of their demonic powers.

Chris took a deep breath and, with trembling fingers, slowing unfolded a corner of the paper. On the back, Bridget's failed attempt at finding the leprechaun's pot of gold was still evident, and the witch-whitelighter traced the ill-fated line with his fingers before flipping the paper over suddenly before anything could kick in to stop him.

_Chris,_

_So uh... here we are. Or, you know, here I am. I don't know what to think about us having this kid. I mean, who'd have thought it, huh? Seriously… this is freakishly strange and I feel like I'm in the twilight zone and… this is weird. Baby's coming and, for now at least, I'm all alone. I'm scribbling away furiously on this because well… there's something freaky going on. Really bad freaky and… I think I'm going to die. Today, soon, maybe now… You can thank those crazy Hunter dreams for this heads up, by the way. I, however, won't because they've really been screwing with my head. I didn't even believe them. But now, well… I'm kind of cold, and it's the kind of cold that I don't think can be helped by grabbing a jacket. You know what I mean. Of course you know what I mean; you've seen it happen way too many times before, and I'm sorry for that. I'm sorry that I'm going to be another person in your life who has just gone and given up on you, leaving you alone. I've helped you through death more than once, but now I guess I'll have to pass the torch. I'll just do it very reluctantly, because, really, it's _my _torch. Blame the only child thing. Therapists have been doing that for, like, ever. What do they know, anyway? Do they have degrees in Bridget-ology or something? Losers._

_Anyway, I honestly don't think that I'm going to see you again, so… I know this is going to be kind of futile, because I know that you're going to blame yourself, but… don't. Please, please don't. You're probably somewhere on the top ten of the best things that have happened to me. Really high, but not quite above my Samurai sword because, you know, pretty and stuff. But you're right below that, I promise. Well, you know… I think you're totally joint top with her, actually. Especially because she's in the future and doesn't know I'm being a cheating whore._

_I was writing something about not blaming yourself, but it's slipped my mind and I don't know if I have the patience to read back to find out exactly what it was I said. That and I don't think I could do it without getting all mushy and not being able to finish the letter, which is a stupidly unattractive trait, so, basically, you were my rock and my sanity, and… I don't want you to take my death on your shoulders. I don't want you to hurt because of me, because there'll be a new me. She won't be as good as this me, though, because nothing ever could be, but there'll be another me. You don't need to tear yourself apart with guilt and if you do I'm going to have to kick your ass. _

_Everything good in my life started with you. Everything. And I'm not just saying that; I really mean it. I could never have hoped or prayed for a better set of friends than you guys and, even though I'm not going to be with you anymore, I'll always be looking out for you. So don't think you can badmouth me the second I've taken Death's hand because, boys, I'll be pissed, so pissed I'll drag Nixa out of the Afterlife Mall where everything is discounted all the time and make her help me haunt you, because I would only ever do the clichéd stuff. You know how smart Nixa is: she'd help me spook you both good._

_I guess… I've been thinking, and I guess that I don't really have anything to leave my mark on the world. The only thing I have left in this world is our baby, and that will have to be my legacy, so you take care of Baby, yeah? Make sure he plays nice with the other babies and doesn't florb them to purgatory for having a better buggy than s/he does. In fact, make sure that no baby has a better buggy then s/he does. Baby doesn't need an inferiority complex. It's already screwed up, what with having Ben as an uncle and all._

_God this is so weird._

_Lastly, because this crayon is getting blunt and they make mazes on stupidly small pieces of paper. You think they'd think that someone might need it to write their last words on, wouldn't you? Stupid inconsiderate diner. But yes… lastly… make sure that you can open your heart to someone. Don't decide to be a monk just because I'm gone. Live a little — while you still can because I'm not-so-living-anymore proof that life can be gone in a flash. Let someone else find out how special you are. Let them find out what a fucking great person you are. Don't close yourself off because you're grieving. Live, dammit, and what's more, enjoy it. That's what life is there for. Life is not meant to be doom and gloom and one long hunt after another long hunt. That's not what it's about. Passion is so important, because without it, we'd be truly dead. So… find who it is that turns Wyatt and, when you do, run them through a couple of times for me, and then stop. Just stop. Stop the hunting and the killing and the putting-everyone-else first crap and _live. _Put the darkness behind you and enjoy what you've created and take the time to enjoy my legacy, because it's all I have to give. Take the time to make sure that Baby _has _something to pass on to its loved ones when it dies because this sudden realisation of emptiness? Sucks. So make sure you do this one thing for me, okay? Please?_

_I love you, Chris Halliwell. Lord knows why, but I do. So be happy. Be happy for me._

_All my love,_

_Bridget_

_XxX_

_P.S. And keep Ben out of trouble. Stitch his lips together if you have to, but do it because I don't want to be floating around one day and find him hurt any more than I want to see it happen to you. Just don't tell him I got all sentimental._

Chris swallowed repeatedly, clutching the paper in his hand so hard that it began to hurt, and he didn't even know why. He looked back down at the letter, feeling only demonic-related anger and hatred searing through him. Flashes of pain kept bursting their way to the tumultuous broiling surface but mostly all he could feel was hatred. He _hated _Bridget. He hated her for leaving him. How _dare _she leave him all alone? What about her whole 'Live fast, Die Never' policy? He balled up the letter and hurled it across the cage. It was blasted back into his lap, smoking and singed, by the crackling white bars.

"Chris? Are you alright?"

Ben never got an answer, though, because at that moment orbing lights appeared in front of them. The orbs cascaded slowly down from the ceiling, achingly coalescing molecule by molecule to form Leo. The Elder, looking filthy, haggard and exhausted, cast bewildered eyes around the Manor's attic before taking two rattling breaths and collapsing to the floorboards.

"Phoebe! Paige!" Chris yelled, stepping forward to the very edge of the cage. "PHOEBE! PAIGE!" he bellowed, panic seeping into his voice. What the hell had happened? What was wrong with his dad?

"Jeez, Chris, we're _coming_," Paige huffed from the attic's stairs, pushing hair out of her face. "You know, it was only like an hour ago that you didn't _want _to lose these powers. You wouldn't think you'd change your mind so… quickly." She paused, her eyes roving over the prone form on the floor to land on Ben and Chris, at which point they turned harsh and accusing. "What did you do? Who's this?"

"It's Leo!" Phoebe suddenly shrieked, crossing the room quickly and dropping to her knees by his side. She rolled him over so he was facing the ceiling, gasping at the gashes on his head, face and neck. Suddenly, they were bathed in a golden light and healed, his body finally getting the rest it so needed to perform this action. "What happened to him?"

"He just orbed in here and collapsed. What's going on?" Ben asked a little shakily.

Paige put down two potion vials on a dresser by the door and rubbed her forehead with her hand gently, looking vaguely harassed. "Uh… Leo!" Her unconscious brother-in-law orbed onto the couch.

"I'm going to go and get him a glass of water…" Phoebe said. "Hopefully, he'll wake up and be able to tell us what happened."

"I'll orb you downstairs. Just when I thought we were clearing up a mess…" Paige muttered, gesturing to Phoebe with her arm. The middle sister joined the youngest and they orbed out together.

"Hey, guys! Hey!" Ben yelled to the empty air, throwing up his hands as the last orbing lights faded. "It's fine. Don't worry about us, we'll just—" He was suddenly gripped by another violent pain in his chest and he bent double, staggered backwards. He thought he was going to vomit, but his knees gave out first and he crashed to the boarded floor, pain coiling around his heart like white hot barbed wire.

Chris was about to go to his friend's side when another set or orbing lights appeared in practically the same spot Leo's had been earlier. Piper stepped out of them in a much brisker entrance than her sort-of husband's had been before her.

The witch looked to the ceiling. "_Thank you,_" she called, sarcasm highly evident in her words. "It only took _four hours _of asking, but thank you nonetheless," she muttered, shaking her head. "Okay, so…"

Paige and Phoebe chose that moment to orb back into the room. Phoebe was clutching a pitcher filled with water and a glass in one hand. Paige, as soon as she saw Piper, winced at how utterly busted she was for orbing her sister out of the way against her will. She half-smiled, half-grimaced at her sister in way of greeting, chewing on her bottom lip and waiting for the customary explosion.

"Talk about Grand Central Station," Chris muttered, his head still reeling from the comings and goings the attic had seen in the past five minutes after being all but silent for the past hour. The full set of Charmed One glares still smacked into him like an eighteen wheeler, even after all of the years of living with it and he just settled for rolling his eyes, aiding Ben in getting up from the floor and folding his arms whilst the sister began to bicker, resigned to the fact that he had to let it happen.

"What the hell is going on?" Piper shrieked demandingly, watching as Phoebe, anticipating the length of her coming rant, set the pitcher and the tumbler down _without a coaster _next to two potion bottles. "Paige, firstly, you had _no right _to endanger you and Phoebe like that by breaking up the Power of Three when it could have been most needed. What were you thinking? Pregnant or not, I still have responsibilities, even though I might not like them. And secondly—" she paused, turning just a little to catch her breath and hazily catching sight of Leo behind her on the couch in the glass front of the dresser. "What…? Secondly, _why _is my ex-husband unconscious on the couch? And, thirdly, why have you put them in a cage? I leave you alone for a few hours and you knock out my husband and imprison my sons? I'm glad Wyatt was at Magic School with me because, at this rate, you would have shoved his stroller off a pier!"

Slow realisation dawned on Ben. Piper Halliwell had actually referred to him as her son. Half-mad with anger and ranting, admittedly, but she had still done it. He blinked, a slow grin forming on across his face at the idea of Piper's basic unconscious acceptance. He looked to Chris, who had caught Piper's miswording too and was grinning a reflection of the grin that he was.

The witch-whitelighter Chris punched Ben's arm lightly. "Dorky younger brother that I never had, huh?" he said.

"Uh. Huh. I'm the same age as you. I guess we can overlook that, though, 'cause I get to be the better-looking one after all," Ben teased, eliciting another punch, harder, from Chris.

Piper had taken a deep breath that broke into her tirade, and Paige saw her opportunity to jump in. She held up a hand, watching Piper deflate a little as she let her indrawn air go, and then spoke. "Look, Piper. Leo… Leo just appeared like five minutes ago and collapsed, okay? That one is _so_ not our fault. And Ben and Chris, well…" She stopped, wincing, looking conflicted. She didn't particularly want to get yelled at by Piper again. No matter how often it happened, it was never a pleasant experience; it only served to make her feel as if she were five all over again. Also, Piper had this vein that popped out on her forehead when she got really mad and it had been practically pulsating throughout her tirade, which was not at all good for Baby Chris. And she could never explain what had happened to Bridget and the baby with Ben and Chris standing right there; she really didn't want to rake over ground so obviously raw.

Piper tucked her hands into her hips and cocked an eyebrow. "'Well'?" she repeated, letting the word hang so that Paige could complete the sentence. "Well what?" she demanded when no one answered her, fixing each of her sisters in turn with a glare. "Is this the whole pregnant thing? 'We have to wrap Piper in cotton wool and never tell her anything because she's having a… baby'. What happened to Bridget? Where is she?"

Both Phoebe and Paige sucked in a pained breath of air and shot glances over at Ben and Chris to see how they were taking it. Chris had closed his eyes gently; his mother's asking of the question he dreaded making him suddenly very tired. Ben was avoiding everyone's eyes, staring anywhere but at anyone's face.

Piper frowned, looking at the two caged witches to her sisters and then back again, the silence unnerving her. Slowly, a horrible thought crept into her brain. "Oh God," Piper breathed. "She's not… I mean, she didn't… Oh, Chris, sweetie…" Words failing her, the eldest Charmed One stepped forwards, opening her arms slightly to move in for a hug. She walked right into the perimeter of the cage and was thrown backwards in a blast of sparks. "Well, that's one way to abort a tender moment," Piper sniped, wheeling to glare at Paige. "Are you going to keep them in there for some asinine reason or do they get to come out and _grieve?_"

Phoebe wrinkled her nose slightly and picked up the pitcher and glass and walked over to Leo, trying to distance herself from the situation. When one was on the sidelines, one was much less of a target for Piper's wrath. She pressed the cool glass against his lips, letting drops of water trickle steadily into his mouth. The Elder's tongue darted out, swiping them away and his eyelids fluttered. Groaning, Leo's head turned first one side and then the other before slowly waking up.

"More," he rasped throatily, the dryness of his throat grating on his voice box. Phoebe tilted the glass, emptying the tumbler into his mouth before pouring him another. The Elder sat up and gripped the glass himself this time, downing the contents for a second time.

Paige held out a hand hesitantly, biting her top lip for a split second before waving her hand and conjuring a crystal onto the sideboard with her orbing telekinesis before using it again to hurl the power stripping vials at Ben and Chris's chests. The two witches staggered slightly, reeling as if from an invisible punch.

"What was that for?" Piper demanded, exasperated, hating being out of the loop everyone else in the room was so obviously in. She had absolutely no idea what was going on and, running a haggard hand through her hair, she exhaled, feeling a headache forming. She was about to insist on an answer — _again —_ when she saw Chris's face crumple at the sudden stinging slap of emotions returning from their demonic-power-induced prison. His heart felt like it was rending in two, and all he wanted to do was claw it from his chest and hurl it at the wall.

Piper's maternal instincts kicked in and she stepped forward once more, wrapping her arms around her much-taller son. He recoiled instantly, though, swiping her arms apart and staggering backwards, shaking his head. He was taking several short, sharp gasps of air, his back heaving with them, his anguish and despair erupting from within him.

"She's gone…" he whispered, his voice choked.. "She's gone, she's gone, she's gone…"

Phoebe looked up from attending to Leo and swallowed, a tear rolling down her cheek. Paige was hugging herself gently, her eyes damp and glistening as she struggled to hold back tears of her own. Lost, Piper opened and closed her mouth wordlessly, her arms still open. She swallowed, hurt and stunned by Chris's rejection of her and slowly she dropped her arms to her sides, looking at him helplessly and pained, completely uncomprehending as he son hit the wall without noticing. The witch-whitelighter slowly sank down the wall onto the floor, struggling to breathe through his grief and clawing at the side of his head, sending his hair into disarray. He inhaled suddenly as if a knife had been plunged into his chest and, all at once, he began to cry.

Piper one again made forward, but only got two steps before restraining herself. Chris didn't want her. Chris didn't need her… She was useless, defunct, her son was crying and she couldn't do a thing to stop it. Is this the way she mothered in the future? Was her incapability what sent Wyatt into the downward spiral towards evil? She swallowed again, tears teetering on the edge of her eyes, waiting for the slightest inclination to spill.

The force of the potion hitting his chest had sent Ben backwards, and he hadn't stopped stepping backwards. His legs felt heavy, like lead, and the muscles felt as if they were fluttering. He felt as if they were going to give away any second and yet he kept shakily stepping backwards, trying to distance himself from the sudden onslaught of emotions that had rushed through him like a subway train. He had to get away from it all. The pain was going to kill him… He had backed into a wall and his fingers were scrabbling subconsciously against the woodwork hard enough to leave shallow gouge-marks with his nails. Desolation and disbelief radiating from his face ran the room through in soul-wrenching waves as his fingers stopped scratching at the wood and seized it until his knuckles glowed white, clutching and clinging to it just so he could feel something solid, like a drowning man seizing a flotsam .

Piper stood in the middle of the room and slowly, devoid of anything else to embrace, wrapped her long woollen cardigan around her middle and gently clasped her womb.

_**Learning to Tango**_

**_I just want to apologise sincerely for my bad, bad, bad delay. I can't believe that it was August I last updated. You have no idea what this term has done to me. I feel like I've been to Hell and back with all of the work I've had to do. If anyone had stuck with me — thank you. I know I can't thank you guys here anymore, so you'll all have had your ridiculous PM/e-mails whatchamacallits by now thanking you, unless you were an anonymous reviewer. So, minimonkey89 — thank you very much for your review — it was very kind. I guess that, because of the stupid new rule, you'll have to sign a review if you want a reply from me in the future — I'm sorry._**


	18. Chapter 18

Ben took another sip of his coffee, only to find that he had emptied his mug without realising it. He looked accusingly down into the ceramic emptiness, angry with the coffee for deserting him and swirled the dregs around the bottom like a tealeaf reader. Answers in the bottom of a coffee mug. Now _there _was a novel concept. He sighed and gently placed it on a coaster on the windowsill and resumed his leaning against the wall and staring aimlessly into the street.

He didn't even know how long he'd been here. He was sure the clock had chimed more than once, but he couldn't be sure. Nothing seemed to exist besides him and his pain for the moment. He was even staring at the real world and it didn't seem to exist. It didn't seem plausible that everything else could continue to exist when everything had come to a screeching halt for him. It was selfish, he knew, to expect the universe to smack into a brick wall just because he'd lost somebody, but he was passed caring.

He poked at the base of his mug until it was sitting in the exact middle of the square piece of cork before twisting it so the handle faced the window, then changing his mind and pointing the handle to the left. As he regarded it to make sure it was indeed dead centre, he looked down at the potted plant next to his mug and twisted a leaf between his fingers, plucking it from its stalk. He dropped it to the floor before repeating the motion. The hardwood at his feet were littered with the semi-denuded plant's leaves as if they were corpses on a battle field; he had one on his bare foot and they were threatening to overwhelm the rug. He had no real awareness of what he was doing, or _why _he was doing it, other than using the age-old, tried and tested method of shredding plants in the aid of divination. _There's a point to existing, there's not a point to existing. There's a point to existing… _He crinkled his forehead, trying to remember if the plant's last leaf was telling him to live or not, but he'd lost track.

Looking at his cup, he decided that even the measliest of dregs at the bottom of the mug had value and took the frigid half a sip from the cup, wrinkling his nose a little at the gritty, granular taste of grounds. It was still early on Prescott Street, with the sun having only just made its appearance. He could already tell that it was going to be a beautiful day — high temperatures, not a cloud to speak of — and his gaze turned sour. Glaring at the coming day he wrenched an entire twig from the plant and dropped it to the floor. _There is no way in hell that there's a point to existing when all you do is live with pain. _Across the street, a house's windows shimmered with the new light and he dropped his gaze, cool eyes boring into the street's expanse of empty tarmac.

A bird landed on the lawn in a rush of feathers, startling him, and began to peck and scratch at the grass, searching for breakfast. Somewhere up the road, a car started and whined its way backwards down a driveway before pulling away down the street with a roar. Another bird joined the first on the lawn. A papergirl rode past on her bike, flinging out the morning editions into front yards. The Manor's copy scattered the feasting birds. Everything all seemed very mechanical; jerky as if it were all being controlled by a really bad puppeteer. Life went on all around Ben, but not for him. He was just standing on the outside, watching everyone else living out their lives.

He rolled a leaf between his fingers, slowly increasing the pressure until it was crushed and oozed sap, making his hands sticky. He watched the papergirl ride off up the road and manage to throw a newspaper so that it got jammed in the fork of a tree and let the mutilated leaf-carcass flutter clumsily to the floor. _There _is_ a point to existing. Somewhere. Just look for it. Hard. Harder._

Why did it have to be Bridget? Why were the Powers That Be so hell bent on tormenting them, when all they were trying to do was create a good future? Why did that put them so high up on Death's list? The papergirl cycled out of site, leaving Ben alone to stare at the newspaper eating up the dew from the grass. There was a politician on the front, smiling and waving at him, and Ben's face darkened. Was everything this morning designed to make him feel bad? He ran a hand through his hair and then dropped it back onto the windowsill. When he reached over for the plant he found that it had finally lost enough men to consider retaliation an option and an empty twig stabbed him in the heel of his hand.

Cursing and bringing his hand to his mouth, he sucked gently on the crimson bead of blood welling out of the hole. He took it from his mouth, looked at it and put it back in again. His mouth tasted of copper; his tongue tingled with the depressingly familiar taste. When he was convinced that it had stopped bleeding he toyed momentarily with the idea of immolating the stupid thing and leaving a pile of grey — and totally blunt — ash in its pot. He'd even raised a hand to do so when a voice from behind him made him spin on his heel in fright, his heart pumping wildly in his chest.

"You're up early." Piper had just issued a simple statement, but the way she was looking at him told him that it had an accusing edge. She obviously thought he would be better sleeping. Well, she obviously hadn't taken nightmares into account, then.

He only turned his back on her and grunted in way of response, tossing a half-shrug at her He'd nearly blasted her, for God's sake. Why was she creeping up on him? Had everyone taken leave of their senses? The politician's grey-scale face was now mottled and blotchy with the damp.

"Did you put coffee on?" She didn't know why she asked. The aroma of freshly-brewed coffee was permeating the entire ground floor. Soon, it may even coax her sisters from their beds. It was conversation, though, which was classed as better than awkward, stretching silences in anyone's books, so she persevered purely because every second they weren't talking seemed to ache for an eternity. He hadn't replied, so there was a gap to plug, and she groped wildly around for a new topic. "Di-did you eat anything?" Safe topics were good. The further she stayed away from what was really going on the better. She was sure that Phoebe would want to drag the Bridget issue out by its hair and beat at it with a stick as "therapy" or whatever she would call it. She was also sure that Paige would tackle the Bridget issue, just in a more subtle way that Phoebe would — her half-sister had been a social worker after all and was used to this kind of situation. But her… well, she was neither of her sisters. So this was all she had to offer right now.

"No," Ben allowed, shifting his foot off a leaf. One of the birds had come back and was scratching at the lawn again.

"Well, do you want something? I mean, there are bagels and croissants if you're interested… Or, or I could make pancakes or something? What do you like? I know that Chris likes blueberry, but we don't have to do that. I think we have strawberries… I could make chocolate chip, or apple, or—"

"I'm not really hungry. Thanks."

Piper deflated slightly. "Well… What about Chris? Do you think he'll want something?"

"If you can make him hear you, you're free to ask him," Ben told her slightly bitterly. "Let's just hope you have more luck with him than I did."

"Shutting you out, huh?" she asked. Immediately, her mouth snapped shut, trapping the tip of her tongue between her teeth. Her brain clapped sarcastically at her. _Ooh, smooth, Piper. Insult the person you're trying to comfort. _Hastily, she began babbling, back-pedalling. "Oh, Ben, look, um, I'm sorry, okay? That's was stupid. It's not… I mean, I-I didn't _mean_—"

"I knew what you meant," he said, turning to face her again. He stared at the carpet for another eternity-spanning silence before looking back up at her face and sighing angrily, turning his head away from her and shaking it slightly. "And yeah. You're right. He _is_ shutting me out. But… that's just something I've got to deal with, because he's Chris. So…" he ended openly with another shrug, a what-can-you-do gesture.

"I suppose… I suppose we all have our different ways of grieving, right?" Softly, softly. She had sworn to herself she wasn't going to touch this topic, because all it made her want to do was mother them, which was all that they _didn't _want her to do, and she was still stung from her rejection in the attic the day before. They were both grown up now; a mother was obviously not something they needed. A friend, some support, perhaps. It was just that she'd discovered that, when you took the mothering part out of her personality, there wasn't much left to give. The thought actually physically depressed her.

Ben gave yet another shrug, leaning back against the windowsill as he did so. He started picking at his nails, totally absorbed in his task. If Piper wanted to talk about the whole Bridget issue, then she was best kept at a distance. Anyone that wanted to talk about the whole Bridget issue was best kept at a distance for now, and he was going to make his best effort to make sure that it stayed that way.

"You know, the waffle iron just came out of the shop. That's the last time I let Phoebe use it… Do you want waffles? Banana waffles? I could put cream on top?"

"No thanks." Whilst breakfast foods weren't the most fascinating of subjects, they were most definitely not Bridget's death, so he listened to the Charmed One babble, almost grateful for the distraction and change of topic.

"Sure? Now would be the perfect time to take it for a test run, what with Phoebe safely asleep and all…" She tried to make her voice sound as tempting as possible, but she could tell that Ben wasn't going to take the bait. He didn't want to eat, she got that. What she did get, though, was that he _had _to, whether he liked it or not, because otherwise he was going to make himself ill. So she wasn't going to rest until he had eaten something. She knew, somewhere in her mind at least, that she was overcompensating, but that was what she had been born to do, it seemed. So, dammit, if it was the single thing that she could do she was going to do it, and do it right.

"Don't let me stop you making them for you," Ben said monotonously. "I just don't have much of an appetite."

"Waffles are only good for breakfast if they're made for someone else as well," Piper said a little gloomily. Ben cocked an eyebrow at her logic, so she continued, "Oh, it's just that, otherwise, you kind of feel like a glutton when you eat an entire batch by yourself, even if you only make a couple, which, yeah, that is weird, but I _do _have a thing with gluttony, so…"

A small smile quirked Ben's lips. His body sagged a little in defeat and he exhaled heavily. "Fine. What does me having another mug of coffee buy you for breakfast?"

Piper looked at him stonily, unimpressed. "A Cheerio," she deadpanned, before snapping out of it a little and reaching for his arm. "Look, come on. Come into the kitchen." Her fingers wrapped around his forearm. "Ben! You're frozen!" she chided, recoiling.

The witch looked down at his arm. All of the hairs were standing on end, puckering the flesh into a rash of Goosebumps. His eyebrows shot up, registering mild surprise. Now that Piper mentioned it, he was kind of cold. He'd been standing in one of the Manor's multiple draughts with nothing to stand up against it but the pair of boxers and the t-shirt that he'd slept in. "Yeah… I guess I am a little…"

"Go back upstairs and grab Leo's robe. And don't you dare even think about coming back down until you've got it."

_**Learning to Tango**_

When Ben came back down clad in dark blue-and-green striped terrycloth inches too short for him, Piper had set a fresh mug of coffee on a coaster on the kitchen table and was pottering around the centre island, putting a frying pan on the burner.

Ben sat down at the table and wrapped both hands around the mug, taking a fortifying sip of the strong, hot coffee and watched her as she poured oil into the pan and waited for it to heat up. He took another sip of his coffee, staring into it.

"Eggs on toast?" Piper asked sunnily, already halfway to the refrigerator. She was a chef, dammit. She could stand there all morning firing off dishes in his direction until she eventually wore him down enough to make him accept _something_. If that was what it took, then that was what she would do.

Ben shook his head wordlessly, gazing at the vase of flowers in the middle of the table. They were lilies. Someone had already picked out the stamens off and discarded them so that they wouldn't stain anything with pollen, so he had nothing to pick at but petals and leaves. His fingertips seemed to itch and he reached up to the pink-flecked petals but Piper rescued them quickly, whisking the vase onto the counter next to the TV.

"I saw what you did to the one in the living room," she groused, spinning the vase so that the flowers' best sides were facing outwards. "These lilies don't deserve that."

Ben wrapped his hand back around his mug tightly, trying to burn off the itch in his fingers with the scalding ceramic. The biting heat was welcome. "Sorry. About the plant, I mean. I wasn't really thinking about what I was doing, it was just…" His words sputtered to a halt and he heaved a sigh, bringing his mug to his lips again.

"Doing? Yeah, I know. I'm not mad. I didn't like it much anyway. It was squat and kind of ugly and really greedy with water… This way, I don't have to tell Phoebe that, though." She shrugged satisfactorily and poured herself a cup of coffee, sitting down opposite Ben, gnawing on her bottom lip and watching him gaze into his coffee. He looked so hurt and lost that she had to clench her hands around her mug to stop herself trying to hug him again. "Oh! I just remembered!" She grimaced guiltily as Ben jumped, startled, and spilt a little coffee. "We have pastries. Paige brought pastries home yesterday. Apple and pecan? There's some with cinnamon on. Or custard ones, I think… Am I tempting you yet?"

Ben rolled his eyes and gave her a half-smile. "No. I'm fine. Really."

Piper picked up her coffee mug and took a drink, narrowing her eyes a little at him and cocking her head. She smiled a little at his panicked, deer-in-the-headlights look and put her mug down. "I know. Boiled egg and toasted soldiers?"

Ben groaned and leant his forehead in the crook of his arm. Muffled, he warned, "I swear, if you ask me about breakfast foods one more time, I won't be responsible for my actions."

Piper laughed at him as she got up and flipped hair back over her shoulder, lacing her fingers through her mug's handle so she could take it with her. She walked over to a cupboard and opened the door, stretching on her tiptoes and navigating her bump to reach the cereal packets on the top shelf. "Okay… We have Cheerios and Cornflakes and Raisin Bran if you feel like being nutritious, which nobody ever is unless they're me, so…" She reached up and grabbed two boxes down with one hand before setting her coffee down so she could brandish both boxes. "We have Lucky Charms and Trix here, as well as Captain Crunch up in the cupboard. Which one do you want?"

Ben half-smiled again then cocked an eyebrow at her. "You are aware that I've seen you give exactly the same choice to Wyatt in his highchair like, every morning since I've been here, right?"

Piper smirked. "Ah… So that would be a yes vote for the Raisin Bran, huh?" Ben pulled a face of such disgust that Piper laughed again, setting the two cereal boxes down on the island in front of her so she could pick up her coffee again.

"Somehow, I don't think I'm that geriatric. Yet. I didn't say I _minded _the choices; I just want to feel a little more grown up than Wyatt. You know, while I still have the chance?"

"How much more grown up?"

Ben shrugged. "Eh. Just a couple of years or so. Preschool was fun, after all. I totally had the time of my life gnawing at construction paper with blunt plastic scissors."

"So! My new four-year-old!" Piper said brightly, picking up the packets again and shaking them for extra emphasis, first her left hand, then her right. "Lucky Charms or Trix? Hm? Which one today?"

Ben made an exasperated noise and sunk down lower in his chair, throwing his head back and groaning once more. "Piper…" He sighed. "Can we clear this up, please? No matter _how _much I adore being patronised, I'm really, really not hungry. So please, just…"

Piper gave a light shrug and replaced the cereals, snagging her mug again and opening the breadbin. Ben was looking at her back suspiciously when Paige came in, stretching and yawning and making a beeline for the coffeepot. Ben was perpetually surprised that there wasn't a rut in the floor from the door to the coffeemaker.

The witch-whitelighter unhooked a mug from a mug tree and set about pouring herself a coffee, stirring in milk but no sugar. She turned around, leaning against the sink to take the first sip and her eyes landed on Ben. "Hey… How are you feeling?" she asked gently, setting the coffee down on the draining board behind her.

Ben tilted his head first one way and then the next. "You know. Alive, I guess."

She gave a sympathetic grimace of understanding and reached back for her coffee, taking a sip and then nodding as she swallowed. "Well, that's the main thing, right? And you know that, if you ever want to talk about—"

"I'm fine," Ben cut in shortly, quite certain that he would never want to talk about it again.

Paige smiled sadly, but then blew it off with a shrug. "That's fine. It's not like you don't know where I am," the Charmed One offered, snagging Piper's seat opposite him and turning her upper body towards her older sister. "So, chef, what's for breakfast?"

"Ask Ben," Piper said dryly, cocking an eyebrow at the young witch. She glanced back down at the hob and wrinkled her nose, licking a finger and cleaning each of the knobs in turn.

Paige frowned a little in confusion and turned to Ben with her head tilted. "Uh… what?" She turned back to Piper, the answer she had arrived at totally confusing her. "He's going to cook?"

Ben rolled his eyes for what felt like the hundredth time that morning. It probably was. "She wants me to have breakfast," he said tiredly. "And, for extra guilt, apparently none of you get to eat until I do."

Paige wrinkled her nose a little and then held up her hands, denying any part in the morning's events. "Okay, fine. I can just about deal with that, but you better choose _something _before Phoebe comes down, okay? Friendly advice there for you."

Ben groaned again. "Don't you get that I'm really not hungry?" he said. "Is that such an alien concept to you?" Paige got up, her chair scraping across the tiles, to go and stand beside her sister. Piper had her arms folded and Ben, his eyes switching between them, suddenly knew that there was no hope for his cause. He could see that Piper's eyes were glinting with triumph, and Paige was smirking because she was on the side of someone whose eyes _could_ glint with triumph, so the witch just looked down into his coffee and mumbled, "I'll have some toast."

Piper perked up immediately and clapped her hands together, spinning on her heel to grab a loaf of bread, whilst Paige grabbed the box of Lucky Charms and a bowl and proceeded to pour herself a liberal measure.

Piper was humming to herself so quietly that only she could hear as she slotted bread into the toaster and slid it inside. He'd smiled. He'd actually smiled. Not only had she won on the food front, it seemed that she'd successfully liberated his thoughts, for the time-being at least, from Bridget's death. She watched the elements inside the appliance slowly glow red. Perhaps she wasn't just good at once thing after all.

_**Learning to Tango**_

Ben was curled up in one of the sunroom's wicker armchairs, a plate with half a piece of toast and some crumbs on it abandoned in his lap. He was watching the colours from the windows play across the white tiles on the floor silently, picking at his nails. He looked down at the plate and licked a finger, running it lightly across the ceramic and picking up brown crumbs on the digit before raising his hand and sprinkling them back down onto the plate. He hadn't been able to eat the toast, just as he knew he wouldn't. He had choked the first half down to appease Piper, but it had tasted like cardboard and had lodged in his throat like cotton wool.

He had been temporary distracted by the family banter in the kitchen, and he couldn't help but think that that had been Piper's aim all along. But now Phoebe had made her usual whirlwind exit to the office, and Paige had gone to work and Piper was upstairs tending to Wyatt, so now he was alone again, his mind completely free to brood and dwell on anything it wished.

He remembered Bridget's lust for life fervently. Whilst everyone else was busy saying 'Maybe…' to life, Bridget was busy yelling 'Yes!' at the top of her lungs and grabbing hold of it with both hands. She never thought of consequences, just did the actions and then swiftly dealt with whatever followed them, good or bad.

He drew a deep breath in and curled up tighter, trying to protect his chest from the sudden bombardment of pain he felt whenever he thought about Bridget. She was gone, and yet the words had a hollow, unreal meaning. She was gone, but it seemed like she was going to walk through the door any minute. He had never thought it possible for anything to snuff out Bridget's life — he thought that she'd just keep going forever like some deranged and very scary Duracell Bunny. He looked down at a smear of marmalade on the china and pulled a face at the glutinous spot. Bridget and her multiple endearing peccadilloes… Feeling useless, he just stared down at the plate, stirring the crumbs around with his finger. He couldn't do anything. He hadn't managed to save her and now she was gone…

Suddenly, there was a glittering of lights in the middle of the room that distorted the colours on the floor. Ben looked up, startled, nearly dislodging the plate on his lap. A body shot out of the blue orbing lights and rolled quickly across the floor, annihilating a plant stand with a loud splintering noise. The ceramic pot residing on it hit the floor and shattered, spewing dark compost across the tiled floor.

"Get up, come on!" Chris said immediately, springing to his feet and frantically gesturing for Ben to get up. "They'll be here any minute!"

"What? Who?" Ben asked, confusion clouding proper thought patterns.

Chris was jumping up and down on the balls of his feet, almost jogging on the spot. His eyes were gleaming and he was panting, breathing hard, sporting a jagged slash across his cheek that was still welling blood. His clothes were torn, scorched and dirty and his knuckles were covered in scabs. "Demons! They're following me."

"Where have you been?" Ben asked, getting up and placing his plate on the coffee table in front of him. "What's going on?"

"I went on a little trip to Hell and it got a bit out of hand," Chris explained, his eyes darting about the room, unable to focus on one thing for any length of time.

"Oh, you think? What was your first clue?"

"Revenge is never plain sailing… Anyway, don't judge me, _help_ me," Chris snapped, still looking around the room.

"Don't you think you're taking this a little too… vigorously?" Ben tried gently. "I mean, are you thinking straight? I know that I'm not. Is it safe for you to be doing this?"

Chris wheeled around, affronted. His eyes were now blazing with anger. "What? What did you say? The _one _person in this stupid timeline that I thought would understand what I was feeling tells me that I'm taking my best friend's death too 'vigorously'?" He threw his hands up in the air, a pained expression crossing his features as he turned to pace the floor. Spinning on his heel to face Ben again, he asked, "What the hell does that even mean, anyway, _Ben_? Let's recap, shall we? Bridget and my baby were killed by demons who wanted them to further their own powers. Bridget and my baby were practically the only good things in my life. They're now gone because of evil. Also, I'm here to _stop _evil, to stop it getting to Wyatt. Unless, of course, you _like _that future, in which case I'll write you a spell right now and you can go back there. Would you like that, huh?"

"That's not fair," Ben said dangerously, taking a step towards Chris. "That's not fair and you know it. I cared about Bridget just as much as you did, and to tell me that I don't give a damn about her being dead is so far off the mark. The only reason I said that is because I don't want to turn around and find another friend dead. I don't want to have to be the one to outlive anyone."

Chris blinked and took a step backwards. "Yeah…" he said eventually, shaking his head and beginning to wind down his adrenaline buzz. He shook out the rest of his body and sighed. "Yeah. Look, you're right; I don't know what I'm doing, okay?" He ran a hand through his hair and began pacing again, frowning and licking his lips. "I _don't _know But I've got to be doing _something_, you know? I can't—"

An energy ball hit him in the back and sent him tumbling over the wrought iron table, sweeping a vase off its surface. He slid off the other side, cracking his head on a chair before hitting the floor. Ben immediately raised a hand and incinerated one of the five demons that had appeared behind Chris. He raised another hand but was met with a barrage of energy balls. Dropping to the floor, he flipped the coffee table over and army-crawled his way back to the armchair he had been sitting in just as the coffee table was blown into millions of white wicker smithereens. The blast knocked him into his back and the force of the explosion winded him. He heard footsteps coming across the floor and he painfully forced air into his lungs, sitting up and twisting his body to the side to fry another demon.

"What, do I have a target painted on my chest?" he groused through gritted teeth. "Because I'm _sick _of people hitting the bullseye." He flicked his left hand at a third demon, who twisted his upper body to avoid it. The power shot past him and hit a dresser, which exploded. Cursing, Ben scrambled to his feet and jumped backwards as energy balls smashed into the spot where he had lain seconds before, leaving dark scorch marks. He half-turned and flicked a wrist at the iron table, bowling down two of the demons with it.

"What's going on down here?" Piper demanded, making her way down the stairs as quickly as she could. Her question was answered as she reached the bottom of the stairs and Ben was thrown through the air to demolish the coffee table in the centre of the parlour.

Ben groaned before sarcastically biting out, "We were having a tea party when the March Hare got rowdy." He rolled onto his back as the three demons appeared in the doorway that they'd thrown him through and readied energy balls. Ben snarled and twisted his hand, shooting ice shards into the centre demon's neck and chest, vanquishing it with a slight spray of demon blood.

Piper flicked her wrist and blew up the left one. "You know they say that sarcasm is the lowest form of wit, right?" she asked, as the remaining one looked at what remained of its predecessors and shimmered out just as both she and Ben unleashed blasts at it. They combined force of the powers blew a metre-wide hole in the drywall and annihilated a wall scone, leaving behind only a mass of fizzing, sparking wires.

Ben frowned. "That's just a security blanket kind of statement for people that don't get it."

Piper collapsed onto the couch, letting out the deep breath she didn't realise she had been holding, too tired of the sarcasm argument already. Besides, she was already out of ammo. "Okay, as long as that doesn't happen again until after Chris is born, I think I can just about deal…" She looked at the wall in despair, frowning at the still-sputtering wires and sighed lightly, resignation crossing her face. This was the way it had been for six years, and this was the way it was going to stay, probably until the day she died.

"How about we go for until after Chris is like… ooh, I don't know… _eighteen_?" Ben grumbled, picking himself up from the wreckage of the coffee table. There was blood trickling down his forearm, so much so that his shirt sleeve was saturated and it was dripping onto one of the magazines that had been on the coffee table with harsh, rhythmic spatters. He inspected the trail, sucking some of the deep crimson rivulet into his mouth in a vain attempt to figure out where it was coming from. He finally pinpointed the source as a shard of glass from what was now an ex-bowl of potpourri that had been on the table. Wincing, he gently wiggled at it, teasing it out of his arm. "Besides, you've only got like a month left until Chris is born, right? So— OW!" The shard came free suddenly, tearing a chunk of flesh from his arm. "Son of a—"

"Son of a…?" Piper inquired quickly, her eyebrows raised. "Think about how you want to end that."

"'Gun'?" tried Ben, dropping the bloody piece of jagged frosted glass onto the wreckage at his feet distastefully.

"Good enough. Now, where's Chris?" she asked, struggling up from the depths of the couch.

"How did you—?"

"Somehow, I didn't think you'd managed to bring on a full-scale demonic attack by yourself when all you'd been doing was sitting in that armchair," Piper said wryly, accepting Ben's hand up.

"He hit his head," Ben said. "Luckily, his skull is as thick as any Halliwell, so… so I need to stop talking right now, huh?"

"Where was the hint?" Piper deadpanned, waddling through into the sunroom and immediately catching sight of her prone son, his body tangled in one of the dark green cast iron chairs.

"_Bridget?" Chris asked, peering through the pale turquoise mist at a backlit figure slowly approaching him._

"_No. I'm the tooth fairy. My wings are at the dry cleaners," Bridget said wryly, stepping forward in a sudden burst of radiant light. She seemed to glow softly, her features flawless and almost luminescent._

"_Oh my God," Chris said, stumbling forward to hug her. He closed his eyes and threw his arms around her, but she was gone and he narrowly missed falling flat on his face. "What—?"_

"_I didn't come here for some huge mushy reunion thing," Bridget told him from behind him, making him wheel around. "Well, you know, that and the fact that the hugging thing tends to require some sense of corporeality and I seem to be all out of that right now..."_

"_Are you okay?"_

"_We'll pretend you didn't ask that," Bridget told him, hopping up onto an invisible surface and sitting there, her legs dangling in the air, "because, really, that is a _very_ dumb_ _question."_

"_Sorry."_

"_I think I can forgive you. I'll have to check the rules in the welcome pack, but it's pretty much a dead cert. They're all really big on the forgiveness thing here." She started drumming her nails on whatever it was that she was sitting on. _

_Chris realised that her nails were painted black to match her toenails, which were sticking out of the end of white open-toed sandals. She also wore black lipstick and black eyeliner, rebelling even against the afterlife's stereotypical all-white dress code. Either that or the white was to be ironic, because his great-grandmother had never been seen wearing all white once she became corporeal. With Bridget, as always, it was hard to tell. Deep inside him he felt as if he were about to cry with the cruel familiarity of this but something was stopping him. It was like he physically could not be sad._

"_So… I think we both know what we're doing here…" Bridget said, looking around and inspecting her surroundings. She appeared to dislike what she saw and sneered at it._

"_Apparently, it's to torture me with visions of a life I can never have again," Chris said bitterly, folding his arms and crouching to sit on the floor. He was stopped before he got there, though, but some kind of chair that kept him sitting eerily in midair in the same manner as Bridget._

_Bridget groaned. "See, _there's_ a typical Chris reaction for you. No, that's not the reason, and, what's more, it's _never_ the reason where The Powers That Be are concerned, you ought to have learned that by now. No. The reason we're here is because of you."_

"_Not you?"_

"_Look, Chris, this is _your_ dream, okay? I'm not self-centred enough to hog your dreams, got it? Okay, so, look…" She broke off and sighed. "Chris… You're not taking my advice. This was what the note was meant to prevent. You weren't meant to go all vengeful on me. Even though it's fun and stuff, oh, and also kind of hot, it's also really dangerous and distracting. You don't need to be endangered and distracted, or you'll mess up.""_

"_But I _want _to be," Chris said, leaning forwards. "It's the only way I'm going to get to feel better, don't you see?"_

"_Well, if feeling better means cracking your head open on a heavy metal chair, you're certainly achieving that," Bridget told him sarcastically. She sighed again, looking at him and shaking her head._

_Chris _felt _her disappointment in him, prompting him to begin stuttering out an unplanned defence. "Well, no, but—"_

"_No, Chris. Please no buts. You're making this hard; you know that, right? Look. I'm here. Fine. Happy… ish. Sure, I'm kind of bodiless but, on the plus side, I'm also totally ageless and timeless too, which I hear is even better against wrinkles than night cream, so…" She shrugged. "It's not an altogether bad trade. I mean, it's a shame I didn't get to leave a pretty corpse, but a permanently pretty spirit is better than nothing, right?"_

_Chris rolled his eyes and laughed hollowly, only because this was the reaction that Bridget would expect from him. "I miss you," he announced suddenly, looking up. "I really miss you."_

_Bridget smiled sympathetically. "Well, duh. Who wouldn't? I mean, look at me. I was amazing, right?" She shook her head. "Anyway, Chris… This is the hard part, the part that you don't want to hear and that I don't want to tell you. It's… I've been gone less than a day. Something tells me that I might be gone a lot longer than that, and I can't keep making these unscheduled guest appearances in your dreams. Contrary to high school rumours, I don't come cheap and you're gonna wake up one day with the Sandman's bill for me on your pillow. Also, this mist?" She waved a hand through a tendril of the turquoise mist. "This is not budget mist, Chris. It's really gonna cost you."_

"_How can you be so glib about it?" Chris asked, his voice threatening tears that it was impossible to make fall. "How can you deal with it like you don't care? Like it's not a big deal?"_

"_Oh, boy… As much as it pains me to say this, Chris, I'm _not _a big deal, okay? I was one of six billion people on the planet. In the grand scheme of things, what was I? A grain of sand. I've obviously done my bit of shaping destiny, or I wouldn't be here, would I? I'd still be with you waiting for it to happen. Perhaps… I don't know. Perhaps my destiny, and Nixa's destiny, was just to die, you know? Die and get you guys rallied up for the fight against the Big Bad to save Wyatt. _That _is what is important Chris. Saving your brother. Sure, I mattered to you, how could I not but… but I'm not what's important right now. You need to regain consciousness, shake off your concussion and dive back into saving Wyatt. Got that?" She paused and narrowed her eyes. "You better, because you're not taking notes and I am _not_ repeating myself."_

"_It's hard, though…"_

"_So was building the Leaning Tower of Pizza, but did anyone think, 'Oh, no, building a slanty building would be too hard, let's quit'? No. They didn't. You're not a quitter Chris. I know it, you know it, _everyone_ knows it. You've just got to find it again."_

"_It wasn't built slanty," Chris murmured._

_Bridget, about to continue with her motivational tirade, stopped short and looked at him. "What?"_

"_The Leaning Tower of _Pisa _wasn't built slanty. There was subsidence in the foundations."_

_Bridget pulled a face. "Chris, this isn't history class. I'm going to pretend you didn't say that as well, because I don't have time to think of a new analogy every time you pick holes in my old ones. Got it?"_

_Chris laughed a little again, a more genuine sound this time. "At least you're still you."_

"_Who were you expecting?" Bridget asked, grinning. "Of course it's still me, Chris. And it will _always_ be still me. Don't ever forget that."_

"_I won't."_

"_Good boy. Now, go rejoin the land of the living. I think you're wanted…" She looked to her left and Chris looked the same way, but when he looked back she was gone, a single golden orb floating on a current of air before gradually fading into nothing. He stared at the spot where she had been for a moment and his throat tightened._

_He suddenly heard someone calling his name from the direction in which Bridget had looked. Turning his head, his heart rose at the thought that it might be Bridget's voice gently drifting through the mist. Getting up, he stepped towards the voice, which was getting louder now._

"_Bridget?" he called desperately as he walked onwards. "Bridget?" He had to see her just once more. One more time, and then he could deal with being without her. Once more… "Bridget?"_

"Chris!"

The dark-haired witch-whitelighter took a deep breath inwards suddenly and sat bolt upright, gasping. "Bridget?"

"Sorry, sweetie…" There were cool fingers on his forehead, helping to soothe the headache he could already feel pounding away at his temples. The voice that became less and less like Bridget's the longer that he was awake started to make shushing noises, and the fingers began to gently stroke his head and hair. "Lie down again, yeah?"

Chris shook his head both in defiance and simply to clear it. He hissed as white-hot pain shot up the side of his head and he clutched at his temple, the puffiness and tender spots there not altogether unexpected but still a bitch to touch. "No…"

"Hold on. Ben's here with some ice."

There was suddenly a rough bundle pressed against the side of his head before, slowly, the cold began to seep through the cloth, seeming to penetrate his very brain. The side of his head began to slowly numb and he screwed both his eyes shut against the floating colours dancing across his vision and pushed his mother's wrist away, moving to get up.

"Chris, you'll do yourself even more damage. Lie down…" Piper soothed, a firm hand on his shoulder guiding his head back onto the couch cushions. "You hit you head _really _hard…"

"Yeah, that table and those chairs are death traps. He falls and chips his tooth on them when he's older. Younger. … Older?" Frowning in confusion at whether he was addressing his friend or his friend's foetus and then frowning harder because he suddenly realised that that was not a normal person's dilemma, Ben added, "Social services would have a field day. Can I call them up now and report you for future abuse?"

"Only if the future abuse is of _you,_" Piper said, taking a swipe at him and gently shifting the ice.

Ben was staring into the sunroom, watching pieces of rattan smouldering on the floor, glowing like evil red eyes. "Is Leo still upstairs?" he asked suddenly. They'd left the Elder passed out on the couch the day before.

Piper could have kicked herself for forgetting. She had actually managed to adjust enough to her ex-husband not being in her life that she didn't expect him to be here to heal a non-life-threatening wound. "I assume so…" she said, not knowing whether Leo would have taken off. "It won't hurt to see, will it? Chris, can you orb?"

The witch-whitelighter's answer was to close his eyes and dissolve into a swirl of blue lights.

_**Learning to Tango**_

Gideon was stalling. He was twirling the athame around in his blotter, watching it spin, deep in thought. With any other guest in the study he would have felt that he was being discourteous to the highest degree, but with the current occupant he rather felt that basic manners would be lost. Light glinted off the gem in the handle as it spun.

"It seems to me like you appear to be having second thoughts," the guest said. "Now, why would that be?"

Gideon looked up sharply. The athame clattered to the desk. "Not at all," he sniped, glaring down at his guest. "Not in the matter of Wyatt… Although, in the matter of the two future witches… perhaps. They're still good people, no matter how you look at it."

"Well, so was Leo, and that didn't stop you getting me to pull a whammy on him, now, did it?"

Gideon's jaw tightened. "The 'whammy' wasn't to kill him."

"But the 'whammy' could have managed to get him killed anyway, no?"

Gideon didn't really want to get rid of the two brats from the future. They were good witches, supposedly his to protect, and yet his brain was telling him that two down, two to go was not nearly good enough. And, more disturbingly, the more he watched them in his crystal ball, the more he analysed the way that they worked, the more he saw the separate scenarios in which they could foil his plan, the more he wanted to kill them himself. "Do it," he finally commanded, no more uncertainty in his voice. "Get rid of them and make sure nothing can stand in my path to Wyatt." His comrade was about to shimmer out when the Elder leaned over the desk and grabbed his sleeve. "And Barbas? Don't. Fail me."

_**Learning to Tango**_

"You know, when I asked him if he could orb, I assumed that I'd insinuated that he was meant to take his heavily pregnant mother along for the ride," Piper grumbled as Ben helped her up the attic steps.

Reaching the top of the stairs, they saw Chris sitting on the floor. During the orb, he'd lost possession of the towel containing the ice, and cubes of it were scattered across the boarded floor, beginning to slowly melt. Chris was trying to stem the flow of flood from his head using the slightly-damp tea towel in his hand.

"I missed the chair," the wounded Halliwell mumbled, brushing a piece of ice from his lap. "Sorry."

Leo was still sleeping on the couch. The blankets were rumpled from being clutched tightly in his hands and his eyes were twitching. The throw cushion that had been his pillow was on the floor, tossed there as a result of his thrashing. The Elder was mumbling incoherent things in his sleep, gasping and shuddering, making Piper frown in concern.

"He doesn't look so good," Ben commented to no one in particular.

The Charmed One moved forward slowly, easing herself down onto the floor beside her husband and gently stroking his matted hair. "Leo? Leo, sweetie?" She watched as his eyelids twitched strongly once, twice and then settled again. "Leo? Can you hear me?"

"Piper…" the Elder breathed, stirring. "Piper?"

"That's it," the witch told him, gently cajoling him. "Wake up."

"PIPER!" Leo sat bolt upright, startling Piper so much that she fell over backwards. Luckily for her, her body's response had saved her from being run through with the bolt of lightning that surged from her husband's fingertips. The air hissed and crackled, and she smelt ozone before the power struck a window, splintering it into a thousand shards that rained onto the paving below with soft, idyllic tinkling noises that in no way reflected the situation or the atmosphere in the room above.

Leo was breathing heavily, sucking in each breath as if it were his last. He swallowed heavily and then continued gasping, only very slowly regaining control over his breathing and heartbeat. "Piper… Piper…" The witch had pulled herself up from the floor now and Leo suddenly threw his arms around her, startling her once more enough for her to emit a shriek. "I'm sorry. Are you hurt? I don't know what came over me…"

"I'm fine," Piper said, slowly detangling herself from her husband. "You were just shocked, that's all. How are you feeling?"

"A little groggy," Leo admitted, "but I feel a lot better after some rest. I don't know what happened. I barely remember it… There was just this passion, this, this… intense _desire_ to kill demons, and then, well, I _did _kill demons, but after that…" He broke off and ran a hand across his face, screwing up his features as if it would help his memory. "But after that I don't know. It's practically a complete blank…"

Piper nodded and put a hand on his shoulder, rubbing it gently. "Don't worry. It will come back to you eventually. Especially when we find some way to nail whichever demon is messing with you like this. Are you up to a little healing?" Piper coaxed gently, putting a steadying hand on his elbow as he sat up further.

His eyes widened as he looked her up and down, his eyes focussing and resting on her bump for much longer than anywhere else on her body. He brought his hand up, glowing gold, to her face, the ethereal light playing gently across her features but she gently gripped his hand in both of hers and shook her head.

Once again, Piper felt her insides squirm with the familiarity of all of this, before giving herself a figurative shake. "Not me. I'm fine," she said softly, releasing his hand reluctantly and imprisoning hers in her lap, not knowing what else to do with them. "Chris, on the other hand…" She looked back at her soon, who was trying to staunch the blood flowing from his head with his fingertips, still sitting in the multitude of scattered ice cubes.

Leo frowned and sat up further, the attic momentarily dissolving into a rush of black and red blobs and a _whoosh _of noise before clearing again. He screwed his eyes shut once, twice, and opened them again, swinging his legs off the couch. "Let me take a look at it," he said, gripping the couch cushion beneath him until his knuckles whitened and focussing on counting to stop his stomach roiling.

Chris also tried to get to his feet but only managed to climb to his knees before the entire room lurched and he landed on his face, all the light in the attic dimming around him. He groaned and tried once more before he lost consciousness again, but he put his hand on an ice cube and it lost purchase, skidding out from underneath him and forcing him to collapse onto the floor.

"Oh, this is going _great_," Ben said, not knowing whether to laugh or cry. "An unable-to-sit-up Father/Son duo."

"Quit bitching at me and give me a _hand_," Chris growled, not wanting to try and get up again without some kind of assistance.

Ben rolled his eyes heavily and sighed, stepping forward and grabbing Chris under the arms. "Okay. Here we go. One, two, _three!_" He heaved Chris up from the floor, watching his friend's legs twitch and wobble like jelly as they fought to hold him upright. The witch-whitelighter's knees buckled and Ben grabbed a handful of Chris's shirt, helping him to stagger the few steps across the floor to Leo. Once there, Chris's legs gave out again and he slipped from Ben's grasp, landing in a tangled heap on the floor and groaning.

Suddenly, his father's glowing hand assaulted his vision, burning at his retinas and making him hiss as it passed over his eyes to the gash on his head. Screwing his eyes shut, the pulsating pain continued even with the small amount leaking through his eyelids until, slowly, it began to recede, fading away into the back of his mind until it was gone. He opened his eyes and grinned at the room's lack of motion and the lack of welling blood coursing down the side of his face. "Thanks," he said, picking himself up from the floor on perfectly stable feet. "Sorry I can't do the same for you…"

Leo just sighed and shrugged. "It doesn't matter. I get the feeling that this was kind of self-inflicted anyway."

Chris half-smiled awkwardly and shoved his hands into his back pockets, before pulling them out again and picking at his nails, chewing slightly on his lower lip and shifting his weight from foot too foot. "So…"

"So!" Piper chirped suddenly, clapping her hands together and startling everyone else in the room. "So! Yes! What are we all doing here? What's happening now?"

Ben, Leo and Chris all opened their mouths to give an explanation, but found that none of them could come up with any kind of satisfactory one, their separate dramas having temporarily wiped their memories of any plans that they might have had.

Eventually Ben tried hopefully, "Um… I think you were downstairs with Wyatt? And I was…" _In a deep, dark pit of depression. _"…in the sunroom?"

"Wyatt!" Piper gasped suddenly, slapping a hand to her mouth. "I think I left the side of his crib down!" She turned immediately on her heel and dashed down the attic stairs as quick as her predicament would allow her. "Be right back!" her voice echoed up to them.

Chris crossed the room to stand behind the Book's pedestal, resting his hands on the cover as if hoping to draw power from the leather to diffuse the awkward tension in the air. Neither he nor Ben had been alone with Leo since he had had an 'episode' and tried to kill them. Fixing his eyes on the cover's Triquetera, Chris flipped the Book of Shadows open and began slowly turning pages, not seeing anything on them. He could still hear Bridget's words in his mind. 'I'm _not_ a big deal'… How could she say that? How could she possibly even _think _that kind of thing?

A prickle started building at the base of his spine, gathering into slightly-painful tingling before shooting up and down his vertebrae enough to make him shiver. Frowning, he absently wrapped his arms around himself, running his hands over the Goosebumps that had formed on his arms without actually feeling them. It wasn't an outside cold that had done it anyway; it was a cold that came from within him that was the culprit, so it wasn't as if he could stave it off by grabbing a sweater.

_One by one your friends are deserting you. Soon it will be you, all alone, and you'll fall to pieces and never save your brother because, without them, you are nothing._

Chris's head snapped up, his eyes glinting. Where the hell had that come from? His heart felt heavier, his lungs smaller as he tried to fight through the moment of blind fear and panic that had seized him. Swallowing he looked up at Ben, who was systematically pulling loose threads out of the belt of Leo's robe, feigning intent absorption in his task to avoid having to interact with Leo in any way.

"No…" Chris whispered, the word slipping from between his lips without him realising it. Frowning, he put a hand to his head and rubbed lightly at his forehead, trying to massage the thoughts away.

"What?" Ben asked, looking up. "Did you say something?"

Chris just shook his head and then began leafing through the Book again, shaking the voice from his head. Frowning at a page filled with spidery handwriting, he squinted and tried to make out the words, concentrating on anything but the irrational pangs gripping at him. Another icy frisson passed through him and he gulped.

_You wouldn't be here without your friends. You never would have managed anything in your life without them, and, very soon, the last of them will be gone… Poor little witch will be back to being pathetic, just like he's always been. Bridget was the strong one, Nixa the smart one, Ben was the funny one, the loyal one, your best friend, but you, _you… _You didn't fit in anywhere. Never had, never will. Mind you, if you think about it, fitting in is a lot easier when it's just. You._

Chris took an involuntary breath inwards, a feeling like heartburn in every way except for its frosty tendrils gathering in his chest. He reeled back from the Book confused, panting, fear slipping through his bloodstream like ice cubes.

"Chris?" Ben asked, stepping forward, his forehead furrowed with concern. "Are you okay?"

About to answer, Chris was suddenly struck by a frigid pang yet again and he shook his head, stumbling backwards further, his feet crunching on a shard of glass that had fallen from the window until his back was pressed against the jagged, gaping holes left where the pane had been. A splinter of glass bit into his back but he didn't feel it, balling his fists at his side.

_Don't let him come near you. Keep him away. You're the reason everyone's dying, it's all your fault. You got Nixa stabbed, you got Bridget kidnapped and you're going to murder Ben as well. Watch. This. Space._

The voice's words began to hiss maliciously and Chris's breath hitched. His arm shot out almost without him realising it and sent Ben flying through the air to land, sprawled, at the other end of the attic.

"Keep away from me," he muttered, his fingers twitching by his hips. "It's safer that way."

"Chris…?" Concern darkened Ben's eyes as he used a bookcase to pull himself from the floor. He took a step forward but Chris raised a hand, palm towards him, clutching at the air as if he were holding a ball. Ben walked straight into an invisible telekinetic barrier, stunning him enough to knock him back to the floor. Pinned in the corner of the attic, the faintest tinges of fear began to worm their way into the pit of his stomach. "Okay, okay. I'll stay here. Don't worry… Just… tell me. Tell me what's wrong, okay? Even if you do have to do it from all the way over there…"

Chris shook his head wearily, bringing his hands to his head and clutching at his temples, his newly-healed headache returning. "I… can't. I'm just… I don't know. I mean… I'm gonna kill you."

Ben gave a small, uncertain laugh and got back to his feet. "Um… What? That was a joke, right? You know, one of those statements made to invoke hilarity? Or meant to be made to invoke hilarity? Because, if so, you need to work on your act…"

"No…" Chris said angrily, annoyed at Ben's inability to grasp what he meant. "No… I… I don't mean…" he broke off and mimed stabbing someone "…killyou I mean… _kill _you kill you. Like… As a result of something I've done. Or… will do. Do you get it?"

"Yeah… See, call me slow, but as crystal clear as that ramble was there's still a couple of niggling points I don't get, like, um… 'Do I need to start making you take prescribed medication?' Oh, and 'What the hell are you on about?' Although, apart from those little 'huhs' I think I might actually get it…"

"Everyone has died because of me," Chris said, pacing forward and crunching over the glass again. He wrapped his arms around himself one more time as he got halfway into the attic and, realising how near he was getting to Ben, smartly turned on his heel again. "So this way, as long as you stay away from me, you're not gonna die. Good plan?"

"Well, you know, there are a couple of minor kinks. For example, the fact that I A have no food or water and that B, when I die because of the lack of those things, your plan will have failed miserably. Oh, and C? C would be that I kinda don't want to meet Death in your father's threadbare robe. First impressions are the only impression, you know? I don't wanna get stuck in some lameass afterlife dimension because all the good ones have a dress code."

"You're not going to starve…" Chris told him absently. "I don't want you to starve; I don't want you dead. I just said that."

"Well, I beg your pardon for not believing the words of someone who has just turned into a raving lunatic."

Without warning, Leo sprang up from the sofa and spun on his heel, unleashing a torrent of lightning at Ben. The witch yelped and stumbled backwards, watching Chris's shield glow blue and flicker in and out before dispelling the electricity in a bright white burst. Panting, Ben eyes widened and he tentatively stepped forwards, licking his lips nervously. Well, this was fabulous. Marvellously fabulous, in fact. Murderous Insanity Land, Population: Leo and Chris. He could now call his day complete.

There were tendons standing out on the side of Leo's neck, and a pellucid bead of sweat rolled from his temple down his cheek, settling on his chin before dripping off. The Elder's hands were clenched into fists, his nails digging into his palms so hard that his muscles were trembling with the stress of it. He snarled at Chris's shield and whipped around once more, his robe flapping and snapping through the air like a flag in a high wind.

Ben's mouth went dry and his warning stuck in his throat. He had barely managed to choke out the first sound of Chris's name before Leo made a blasting motion at his son, shooting bolts of lightning at him. Chris dropped to the floor and rolled, but the lightning seemed to follow him, blasting a canyon through the floorboards just inches from him. The brunette rolled again and, just as Leo gestured violently with his other hand, sprang up from the floor and dived left behind a chest of drawers, leaning up against the side of the piece of furniture as the power tore through the space he had occupied seconds before.

"Chris!" Ben yelled frantically, watching Leo begin to orb out. He waved an arm and threw an arrow of flame at the shield. With a fizzing pop the flames dissipated, the shield still holding strong. Cursing and seeing orbing lights begin to dance in the air in front of Chris, the witch dropped his head to his chest and appeared at the opposite end of the room between Chris and Leo.

"Get out of the way!" Chris shouted, trying to tackle his best friend to the floor. Ben stumbled but, in doing so, his eyes alighted on a mirror propped against the wall that had been brought up here until the split frame could be replaced. Chris rolled one way and he rolled the other, Leo's next blast immolating the chest of drawers. Seizing the mirror in both hands he threw himself in front of Chris again just as Leo allowed another torrent of lightning to fly at his son.

The power hit the mirror. The glass glowed a searing bright blue and the wooden frame blackened under Ben's hand. Even as an astral projection, Ben felt the power zip through his nervous system, sending white-hot pain along every nerve from his toes to the tips of his hair. The mirror suddenly exploded outwards in a cold supernova of crackling blue and white shards under the onslaught and the rapidly-melting silver back was all that remained. And then, with a blast that sent Ben flying backwards through the air, the lightning erupted from the smouldering mirror and, blistering the very air, rushed its way back at Leo just as Ben's astral form disappeared in a flare of red. The Elder hit the floor just in time and the stream of electricity, rather than blasting the wall, seemed to hit some kind of invisible entity standing behind Leo.

A human form outlined in sparks crackled in and out of view before leaving the floor entirely and crashing backwards into the wall, trailing black smoke behind it. The apparition flickered in and out of view once more before stuttering back to life like a faulty TV set.

"Barbas!" Chris breathed, the bottom of his stomach dropping out. The Demon of Fear was here. Like some kind of horrific jigsaw puzzle, pieces began to click into place. Was Barbas the one that turned Wyatt? Was he the one that they'd been looking for all along? Why couldn't it have been a vanquishable demon? Those he could deal with. Those, he could come up with a potion, a plan, a Power of Three spell for his mother and aunts, those he could _handle, _dammit, so why, _why, _did it have to be Barbas?

The demon shrugged, grinning. "Well, I guess that would be me, right? It's good to know that my reputation precedes me at least." He got up from the floor, touching his hand to the messy, still-smoking wound on his shoulder. Blood was running freely from it, and the flesh around it was blistering almost before their eyes.

Dread washed over Ben. This was not good. So not good. They'd managed to deal with Barbas in the future, sure, but that had always been with Bridget on their side. Bridget, whose fear had nearly managed to kill her the first time she met Barbas, had eventually been the one to conquer him, but not vanquish him. So far, the vanquishing of Barbas had evaded even Wyatt, and that scared him. If _Wyatt _found a demon difficult to handle… Wyatt couldn't kill Barbas, and Bridget, possibly the strongest person he knew, had come within an inch of death merely defeating him.

"Well, now, I know that this wasn't the way that this was meant to go, but…" Barbas tilted his head and grinned, walking purposefully over to Chris. The witch-whitelighter's eyes flashed and the muscles in his arm bunched, but before he could half-raise the limb Barbas had used some telekinesis of his own and snatched it from the air. Chris struggled as the iron-like grip dug into his arm, but he couldn't move anywhere.

Barbas grinned again as he stepped up to Chris, gently running the back of his hand down Chris's cheek, flicking at Chris's hair, making the Halliwell grimace in disgust. Barbas then slowly ran the hand over Chris's face, a deep shadow passing across the witch-whitelighter's features and then chuckled.

"Well… That didn't show me anything I didn't know already… What you're afraid of… You're afraid to lose your best friend…"

"No," Chris bit out through gritted teeth, his legs feeling as if they were cemented to the floor. "No. You're wrong…" His muscles were all straining at once to free themselves of their paralysis but he couldn't manage it, no matter how hard he struggled. Desperately, his eyes swept over the room, looking to his father. The Elder was sitting up on the floor, his eyes unfocussed and glassy, all but comatose. Realisation jump-started his brain. Barbas had some kind of hold over Leo, and had for some time. It explained the random attacks, it explained the irrational fears over Wyatt's demise into evil and the way he tried to blame it on them…

Barbas was walking across the room towards Ben, whose fingers were twitching with the desire to use his powers on the demon. Glaring Barbas down, Ben took a shaky breath inwards and swallowed, trying to mentally prepare himself for what was inevitably going to happen. They'd dealt with Barbas before, after all…

The demon's hand snatched out to grab Ben, but collided with the shield still surrounding the witch. Across the room, Chris smirked, willing the shield to hold with all of the energy he could muster. Barbas was not going to hurt _any_one on his watch, let alone Ben. Whipping around, Barbas snarled at Chris, using his powers to slam fear into Chris's brain, weakening the Halliwell's resolve.

Chris closed his eyes, struggling to concentrate of keeping the shield up whilst being assaulted with Barbas's magic. Suddenly, with a flash of light, he was thrown into a blinking slideshow of images. The sword, plunging into Nixa's gut as she gasped, clutching at it before an energy ball sent her skidding under the dining room table. Bridget, trembling, her lips bluing, lying on the slab as blood slowly wound its way off the stone surface to spatter onto the floor. Ben, tumbling from the top pillar of the Golden Gate Bridge, screaming. Ben, his jugular gaping wide like a grinning red mouth. Ben cold, pale, dead, eyes wide and staring…

Barbas nodded satisfactorily at Chris's low moans and turned back to Ben, reaching out for the witch again. Ben raised a hand and blasted at him, but the fire burst into a brilliant orange flare on the shield. Ben's eyes widened in surprise, and then the witch broke into a shaky grin. Chris was still managing to withhold a small part of his consciousness from Barbas in order to keep him shielded.

Chris's eyelids were twitching and he was gasping as a bead of sweat meandered its way down his cheek. He still couldn't move his body, no matter how much he wanted to jump backwards and away from the visions that were assaulting his mind.

Angrily, Barbas shot a glare over his shoulder at Chris before holding out a hand and latching onto Ben's body using telekinesis. Ben couldn't move, no matter how much he tried to shake it off. Gritting his teeth, he tried to shift an arm but couldn't even gain control of his fingers. Barbas was strong. Suddenly, the Demon of Fear yanked sharply backwards, lifting Ben off his feet to slam into the shield. It didn't give and Ben collapsed to the floor, groaning, tasting copper. He'd bitten his tongue. Barbas picked him up again and slammed him into the wall behind him before dragging him forwards into the shield again. His cheek split open, spilling blood down his face, and he put his front teeth through his bottom lip in a spurt of blood.

The witch fell to the floor again, coughing and drooling red-tainted spit. He raised a hand and wiped the blood from his cheek on the back of it, feeling the bone crunch. Hissing, he tried to get to his feet but Barbas tossed him backwards into the wall once more before sending him crashing into the shield, which began to falter. Barbas made his fist tighter, forcing Ben against it as it stuttered, throwing off sparks of blue light before the witch suddenly shattered it altogether and was tossed into the middle of the room.

He laid in a crumpled heap half-on a rug and rolled over, pulling himself up on shaking arms. As Barbas advanced he flicked a wrist, hurling a thin streak of flame at the demon's shoulder wound. It hit the already-cauterised flesh and Barbas yelled out and staggered, clutching at his shoulder as the flesh began to roil.

Ben flicked his wrist again, but Barbas caught it with the same telekinesis he'd used on Chris and held it there. "Uh, uh, uh… Naughty, naughty witch…" Fears were power. That was why no one could vanquish him; to do so they'd have to vanquish part of themselves. All they could do was merely defeat him, and he always found a way back. No mere witches could keep down the Demon of Fear. He crushed Ben's attack. "Now… Tell me. What are you afraid off…?"

Ben shrugged and pretended to think, blowing out his lips as if the question were hard. "Well, now you mention it… Taxes, poverty, cancer… large, soft, fluffy pillows. Scared to _death _of those. Would not like it if a lot of those were to appear."

Barbas looked momentarily thrown before raising a hand and running it over Ben's face. "Well, well, well…" he said, chuckling. "Well, well, well indeed… It seems to me that, while your friend over there is busy worrying about _your_ safety, all _you _seem to be able to think about is yourself… Tut, tut… That's not very noble now, _is it?_"

Ben felt the bitterness of self-hatred begin to seep into his system. Chris's greatest fear was having to go through losing another friend. Chris's fear was selfless, strong, something to be proud of. Ben already knew what his fear would be. Greater, even, than being stuck in the past by himself to finish a job that, really, only Chris was good enough to do. It had been the bane of his existence since his first vanquish, when the demon in the warehouse had shut them both in that crate.

"Small spaces… Huh. I guess it's all me, me, me with you, right? You just let everyone else come second to your needs… I knew that witches were a _low _species, but I've never met one that managed to disappoint me this much…"

Guilt appeared and mingled with his self-loathing. He was the worst friend in the world, surely. Self-centred, selfish and pathetic. He mentally cursed himself, not even bothering to dab at the blood dribbling down his chin. The crimson trickle dripped onto his hand, spattering over his palm. Behind Barbas, Chris collapsed onto the floor with a dull thump, his eyes closed. Panic caught Ben until he saw his friend taking shallow, quick breaths.

"Oh, don't you worry. He'll get his turn…" Barbas said, grinning maniacally and staring into Ben's eyes. "But you've got to share, and right now it's your turn…"

A blast of cold air suddenly hit him, feeling like a million knife-edges. It was suddenly dark. Very dark. He was lying on his back and there was a… smell. A smell that he couldn't quite place. He felt around in the dark, his fingers gripping smooth, soft padding beneath him. His back and heels felt bruised despite the cushioning. Slowly, with a trembling hand, he reached up and touched solid wood. He let loose a shaky, panicked breath as he reached left and right and came across the same barrier. He knew what the smell was. It was wet earth. He was in his coffin, in his grave, surrounded by wet earth.

There was six feet of soil on top of him.

Yelling out, he began pounding on the wooden walls, scratching at the lid. Dull pain reached his mind as a nail was torn off entirely by his frantic scraping and got lodged in the wood. The skin was shredded off his knuckles, elbows and knees until they were damp with blood. He kicked out at the wooden obstructions surrounding him and tried to sit up, but the coffin lid was only centimetres from his face. He felt hot tears prick his eyes, and bit the inside of his cheek to stop them falling. Out. He had to get out…

The witch knew that he had to beat what Barbas was throwing at him. Slowly, he tried to force himself to calm down. He lowered his hands to his sides, gripping at the padding beneath him and forcing himself to breathe. It was an illusion. It was all an illusion. He had been lying on the attic floor; nobody had had chance to put him in a coffin and bury him. This wasn't real, it didn't exist. It was just Barbas messing with his head to kill him. He felt his heart rate began to slow, and his breathing began to return to a normal rate. He exhaled for a good thirty seconds, and then closed his eyes. It's not real. It's just Barbas, it's not real…

When he opened his eyes, they were flooded with brilliance. Sunlight spilling into the attic's windows dazzled him, and he took a deep lungful of the air and another for good measure. He was still panting, he realised, his heart was still thudding wildly, but he was no longer in a coffin. He slowly closed his eyes again and gulped, running a hand across his face and feeling it awash with sweat and blood.

He curled into a defensive ball, still trembling, and hugged his knees. It hadn't been real. It had all been a simple illusion. That had not been his grave, or his coffin. So why was he still shaking like a frightened rabbit?

"Well, that was impressive at least. You managed to repress your fear. However… I wouldn't say that you'd _conquered _it…"

Ben's eyes snapped open and he began to half-crawl backwards. Behind Barbas, Chris was on his feet again, his muscles straining against the demon's hold to no avail. A tendril of hair at the front of his head was stark white, and Ben felt guilty all over again. Chris was scared that Ben was going to die. Ben was scared that Ben was going to die: it was as simple as that. No way that you could look at it could make Ben look any better.

Ben flicked a wrist at Barbas again, but nothing happened. Suppressing a whimper, he did so again, but his powers had failed him. He tried to scramble to his feet, but his legs felt like jelly, still not having recovered.

Barbas gestured and a large, damp-spotted and dust-covered trunk slid from its forgotten corner to the middle of the room. With another flick of his wrist, Barbas tossed the books and clothes and potion vials with dried-up potions in them that had been inside it into the wall. "See, now, this is the economical way to do the killing. If only I could kill everyone in a two-for-one deal. It would make an old demon's life a lot easier…" He stepped towards Ben. This time, the witch was able to muster some semblance of power and a small fireball hit Barbas in the chest, enough to send him staggering backwards a few steps and allow Ben to pull himself to his feet using the couch.

"What a shame. The demon's life is hard. Excuse me while I go and grab a Kleenex to dry my t-tears," Ben said shakily, the words coming out slightly slurred around his mangled tongue and lip. Flecks of blood and drool spotted the air in front of him. "I feel just awful about it. Really, I do. H-have you talked to your Trade Union?"

"A sense of humour to the end, huh? Now, isn't that an admirable trait. Oh well…" Barbas gestured with two fingers, and the trunk slid up behind Ben, taking out the witch's legs.

Ben landed, hard, on his side. A cloud of dust erupted into the air. Looking at the dark inner walls of the trunk, Ben felt the panic begin to grow again and he raised a hand to heave himself out, but Barbas grabbed both of his feet and crammed his legs into the trunk. Suddenly, the fight went out of Ben's limbs as the creeping paralysis began to take over. Looking up, he saw Barbas smirk and rest his gnarled hands on the lid of the trunk.

"You may have done well when it was all just an illusion, but…" he shrugged and slammed the lid closed, and Ben heard it lock.

It wasn't pitch black as it had been inside the coffin. The old worn leather was slightly holed around the hinges, allowing a small amount of light to penetrate the small space. It was definitely a damn sight smaller than the coffin, though, he thought as cramp rapidly began to overtake his limbs.

Inevitably, he couldn't stop the fear rising within him like bile. There was air. Tiny, tiny amounts of air, but there was air. He was going to be fine. Everything would be fine. But what if the holes began to close up? What if the trunk began to shrink in the sunlight that it hadn't seen in who knew how many years? Then he would die. Then he would lie here, sucking nothing but carbon dioxide into his lungs until it felt like a pillow over his face. It was going to kill him.

There wasn't even enough room to kick. He raised an elbow and began banging it against the lid, but it held firm. He coughed. Oh, Gods, it was happening already. The small holes weren't letting enough air in. He was suffocating. Frantically bashing at the side and lid of the trunk with his arms, he fought the urge to shout. That would use up too much air, and there wasn't enough of that already. He was going to die… He was going to die… He could feel his heart thudding faster and faster, far surpassing pretty much any speed he had known it to pump at before.

The walls of the trunk were shrinking in front of his very eyes. Moving inwards to crush him even more. He could feel the pressure on his body from all around and there was a constant ringing in his ears that was slowly getting louder and louder and he kept trapping the urge to scream in his mouth by biting his ruined lip. His heart felt ready to burst out of his chest, and—

No.

No. This was what Barbas did. Barbas sent his victims into tachycardia with their fears until their hearts couldn't cope and just gave out on them — literally scaring them to death. So, no, he wasn't going to suffocate. His fear wasn't going to kill him — his racing heart would. He just had to slow it down, stop it insane staccato beat inside his chest and Barbas wouldn't get his jollies, and he'd get to live.

Closing his eyes he imagined a wide, open space. A field. A huge field, stretching as far as the eye could see until it joined the wide arc of a cloudless, bright blue sky. There was space, and air, all around him in every direction. Trunk? What trunk? He could see nothing but light, and air…

_This isn't really working quickly enough, huh? I've got people to kill, fears to consume… People do expect me to keep appointments, you know? So, tell me how this works for you. How about I throw you off the top of Golden Gate Bridge and see if this thing floats, hm?_

Ben's eyes snapped open, his vision vanishing as if behind a puff of smoke. The trunk moved again. A tiny, rational part of his mind was telling him that Barbas didn't want to drown him. Barbas couldn't feed off his fear if the water killed him before the fear did, and Ben didn't think Barbas was willing to take that risk. However, the majority of his brain was screaming far too loudly for him to hear the cool, thinking part. Repeating the same word over again until it became a blur even in his thoughts. _No. No. No, no, no. No, no, no, no. Nonononononononononono…_

He heard Barbas chuckle inside his head and then he felt his stomach leave him with the rush of falling, his head banging against the sides and lid of the trunk as it spun. Air whistled past his ear drums, an echoing, rushing noise invading his brain before it all came to a painful, lurching halt and darkness consumed all.

_**Learning to Tango**_

Being useless was not something that Chris had ever been good at. Doing nothing was another thing that he had always failed miserably at. And so, when Barbas had forced him to combine the two and watch as Ben was put through Barbas's mind games, it was one of the worst experiences of his life. More than anything, he wanted to punch Barbas in the face, perhaps with a little telekinesis behind his fist, but he couldn't. He just had to stand there, watching as a streak of white edged itself from the roots of Ben's hair to the tips.

Ben was going to die, and there was nothing he could do about it. Barbas was going to induce a heart attack, and that would be it. And here he was, just standing here watching and doing nothing to save his friend. He was going to be left alone to fix Wyatt. He was going to have to do it all by himself. Granted, that _had _been the original plan, but now he had had his friends around him to help him, it was different. He had come to depend on his friends to help him along, to save his brother.

But, soon, Ben would be gone.

The thought slammed into him like a freight train, actually physically hurting him. It felt like someone had slammed a sledgehammer into his heart and he gasped. What would he do when Ben had gone? Who would be there to throw sarcastic commentary at him and find ways to make light of every situation?

When Ben had managed to fight off Barbas's first advance on him, hope had flipped a switch inside him and its thousand-watt floodlights had blazed through all of his dark thoughts at once, sending them scurrying to the recesses of his mind like oozing, malignant shadows hiding from the midday sun.

Falling from the high of such euphoria had nearly crushed him to death. Barbas wasn't finished with Ben, and Ben wasn't finished conquering his fear. It had started all over again. The floodlights snapped off all at once and the shadows had multiplied, merged and woven themselves over his body once more. He was looking down into an abyss, with no way to see the bottom. All he knew was that he was going to fall, and, when he stopped, it was going to hurt.

From inside the trunk, the banging stopped, and Chris's breath hitched in his throat. His heart was thumping against his ribcage like a battering ram. Despair slowly crept through his body, weighing him down like lead. Ben was dead. Barbas had killed him. The grief began tugging at him, yanking him down into dark depths that he had never wanted to visit again. Clawing at him, coiling around him, cackling at him as he tumbled through jet-black nothing.

Intense pressure was crushing his chest and yet it still wasn't enough to hold him together. He felt his brain begin to go to pieces, cutting off all rational thought. His knees gave out and would have thrown him to the floor had it not been for Barbas's continuing hold on him. A cold feeling began to spread over his body, a million tiny needles stabbing at the flesh. He knew what it was — he had felt it before. This was Barbas, feeding on his fear as it slowly killed him.

Why hadn't he seen that this was Barbas? Why hadn't he connected the dots in Leo's mysterious insanity? Why hadn't he, when standing behind the Book of Shadows, realised that what he was feeling was Barbas and got them all the hell out of there? He'd made so many mistakes… Everything was his fault. Barbas was right, everything _was_ his fault…

Chris crumpled like a puppet with cut strings the second Barbas let go of him. He fell to the floor, claws shredding, tearing, twisting at his insides into bloody ribbons. He couldn't even cry. All he could feel was Barbas's satisfaction and cold enveloping him like a shroud, tightening around his throat, choking off his breath with harsh talons around his jugular…

A violent explosion that scorched the floorboards blew the trunk to pieces.

**_Learning to Tango_**

**_Well, we're nearly there, now. I think maybe two, perhaps three, chapters left of this. Hope you all enjoyed._**


	19. Chapter 19

With Ben apparently no longer in imminent danger, Barbas's stranglehold of fear was broken on Chris and the Halliwell surged forward, stumbling across the room, tripping over his own feet to drop to his knees beside Ben. This couldn't be happening… This just could NOT be happening. Not again, not to him. His hands were shaking; _he _was shaking as he reached out to touch Ben, terrified that his friend would be cold.

Across the room, there was another explosion and Barbas was blasted off his feet and into a stack of boxes, flattening them and scattering their contents with a loud _whumph _as the air was squashed from themThere were heeled footsteps coming slowly and deliberately across the boarded floor and Chris turned, his vision opaque and silver from tears he didn't even realise were in his eyes to see two bleary shapes crossing the room. Swiping at his eyes with his fingers he lifted the veil of tears and saw his mother and Aunt Paige crossing the room.

"One of these days, we're going to find a way to make you stay dead," Piper snarled, threateningly, her hands poised to deploy another explosion. "Don't think we won't do it."

Barbas cocked an eyebrow and laughed at her condescendingly, twisting his mouth into a grin. "You keep saying that, Piper. One day, you might even believe it yourself." He gave the two Charmed Ones a royal wave before shimmering out.

Piper growled at the back of her throat, flicking out a wrist and blowing apart a misshapen box out of anger. The sudden explosion did nothing to calm her. So she flicked her other wrist, sending three boxes catapulting into the air, smouldering and belching dark smoke, to burst on the boarded floor and spew their innards everywhere. Her blood pressure still through the roof, she raised her first hand once more.

Paige grabbed it quickly out of the air and lowered it to Piper's side. "Some of the stuff in those boxes is probably valuable either sentimentally or actually, so let's just put these down, okay? Let's not blow up the heirlooms, got it?"

Piper sighed wearily and nodded, running her free hand across her face and through her tangled hair, her fingers wrenching at knots as they went. Paige had orbed home because she had forgotten a set of papers that she was meant to have had in her boss's in-tray by ten and had heard explosions coming from the nursery.

The witch-whitelighter had orbed upstairs in a panic to find Piper, eyes feral, clutching Wyatt to her chest and using her other hand to blast everything in sight. Wyatt was bawling his eyes out and Piper was jiggling him up and down absently in a way that must have been pretty uncomfortable for the kid to try and comfort him.

Paige had nearly been blown to pieces herself when she had orbed in; only dropping to the floor had saved her. Piper's power had blown up a wall scone. It had taken almost ten minutes of soothing and trying to decipher Piper's babbling before Piper had allowed Paige to take Wyatt from her, and a further five minutes after that to realise that Piper's frenzy was due to her fear that everything in the room was a shape-shifting demon after Wyatt.

The room had been wrecked. The crib, the wardrobe, the chest of drawers, all of the stuffed animals and the changing table were all lying in multiple pieces across the floor. Piper had been hiding in the corner, trying to shield Wyatt's face. She had even blown up the rug in some places: holes glowed evilly with orange edges revealing the blackened boarding beneath. And yet still the oldest Charmed One had been exploding anything that she could see.

Paige looked guiltily at her sister's cheek, the scarlet remnant of her handprint still marring Piper's skin. She had had to slap her sister to shock her out of her hysteric.

Chris's nails were digging into his palms. Ben was lying curled-up on his side with his back to Chris, his face mostly-obscured by his hands. Swallowing, Chris finally found the courage to put a hand on Ben's arm. He felt neither cold nor heat radiating through the cloth of his friend's top and gripped tighter, willing him to feel _some_thing to end this torturous question.

As Piper's heartbeat began to return to normal she started to feel more like herself again. She stretched her neck to try and relieve some of the tension that was gripping her body. She couldn't believe that she'd actually wrecked the entire nursery just because Barbas had distracted her with a vague fear of shape-shifting demons. She had thought that she was better than that — that was why she was so angry with him. Her eyes turned to Chris, who was kneeling in front of a prone form. Her heartbeat leapt into her throat, its thumping cutting off her breathing with a strangled noise mid-breath. Not again, not another one… "Oh, Chris… Sweetie…"

She walked across the room and put her arms around his shoulders. He didn't even protest, his rigid form not moving, barely breathing, showed hardly any awareness that she was there. "Come on, sweetie. Come on, get up."

"Yeah, come on, come and sit down," Paige suggested, putting a hand on his shoulder. To Piper, she said, "I think he's in shock. Get him onto the couch, I'll go and get him a blanket and something hot to drink."

"So what? A guy has to be in a state of medical emergency to get a coffee around here?"

Chris gave a strangled cry and fell backwards, bowling Paige over and narrowly avoiding knocking his mother to the floor as well. "Ben!"

The witch rolled over, shoving white-streaked hair off his forehead. His face was shining with sweat even now and strands clung to his damp forehead. He looked up at the group watching over him; his eyes hollow mirrors of Chris's expression: the expression of someone who had been to hell and back within fifteen minutes.

"That is NOT fair! I thought you were dead!" Chris yelled accusingly, surging forward and punching his friend's arm repeatedly.

"Yeah, well, ditto," Ben mumbled, shying away from Chris's blows and shuffling up into a sitting position. His face was grey, pinched and lined and Chris backed off, realising that Ben needed as much space as they could give him right now.

"But we're all okay?" Piper asked. "Right? And that's what's important."

Ben let out a shaky breath and the forced himself to grin. "Right. We're all okay." His words drummed hollow despite the effort he put in to stop them.

Piper let out an exasperated breath. "Well, no, you're not _okay _but you're… okay. As in alive."

"You get plus points for being alive," Paige confirmed. "A page full of checkmarks."

Ben once again pushed dishevelled, fear-bleached hair from his forehead, exposing a mass of furrows like a ploughed field residing there. He put his head in his hands, rubbed his eyes with his fingers and then looked back up at them. "Woot. I get an A just for being alive? Why did nobody tell me about this class in school?"

Chris forced a laugh. "Because getting an A in life would have sent you on a massive ego-trip, the likes of which we've never seen?"

"Touché."

"Grab the Book of Shadows," Piper said. "We'll sit around the kitchen table and see what we can do with this whole situation. I'll make some tea. We'll get through this."

"Tea? Piper, look at them. I think you might just have to put a little something stronger in their cups. Come on: It's six o' clock somewhere in the world."

"Fine, grab the Book of Shadows, come downstairs and I'll make tea and lace it with something. THEN we get down to figuring out what to do about Barbas. Everyone happy with that plan?" She got no replies so just assumed that, if she had, they would have all been affirmative. Clapping her hands together, she led the way down the stairs.

_**Learning to Tango**_

"Oh, sure, hide out in the last place I'd look," Chris grumbled, leaning against the doorjamb.

Ben turned and offered him a ghost of a smile before turning his back on Chris again. "Sorry. I couldn't sleep — couldn't face being inside. I kept expecting the walls to start moving in on me."

Chris shrugged and made his way onto the balcony, the night air nipping at his flesh. He skirted around the small iron table and its set of chairs and walked over to Ben, who was sitting on the wall with his legs dangling over the side. "Not a problem."

"I'm really sorry, Chris."

Chris frowned. "Um… What for? You haven't done anything wrong."

Ben rolled his eyes and turned back to face Chris, one leg hanging over the side the other bent and resting on the wall. "Me and my stupid fear nearly got us killed. I think I that translates to me owing you a rather large apology."

"No, _Barbas _nearly got us killed by using your fear. It wasn't your fault; quit blaming yourself for something out of your control. Besides, Mom and my aunts are on it. Well, were on it before they went to sleep. They'll have Barbas under control before you know it, and everything can go back to the way it was."

"Really? Great! My world was _perfect _before Barbas showed up — I just can't wait!"

Chris sighed and leant on the edge of the table, folding his arms across his chest. "You know what I mean."

Ben groaned and rubbed his forehead with his fingers. "I know. Just… ignore me. Brushes with death make me a little tetchy."

"Brushes? That was a full on, clammy hand around your wrist, come into the light experience," Chris told him. "Not just a brush. You get full snarking privileges."

A loud rushing of leaves announced a breeze blowing onto the balcony before it actually arrived. When it did, it wormed its way through the thin cotton Chris was wearing, making him shiver. Ben was looking out across the street again, probably at nothing. This sucked. He was a bastard for putting Ben through this. He was a bastard for putting them _all _through this — look where he'd got Nixa and Bridget. All because he couldn't accept Wyatt's fate. And what had he changed, really? He didn't know.

He was sure that Ben was probably going through the same turmoil in his head at the moment that he was. As they gradually changed the future from the past with their actions, a new set of memories — often contradicting everything they'd held as true before — cropped up in their brains. Chris could barely tell what was true and what wasn't anymore. He'd misplaced large chunks of his life through his actions, and yet he still remembered Wyatt turning evil, and that was the crucial thing, the thing he longed to wake up one morning and forget. Even though, the second Wyatt was saved from evil, he probably would be pinged back to the future because he would have had no reason to come back in the first place.

Ugh. Time travel.

"It's kind of cold out—" He was cut off abruptly by Ben grabbing a bottle of Jack Daniels from the ledge below him and thrusting it in his direction. The amber liquid sloshed against the side of the bottle.

He laughed, looking in Ben half in disbelief. "Well, this is one way to solve that problem…" He took a swig from the bottle, sending some dribbling down his chin. The liquor burned at his throat as he swallowed and he grimaced. The alcohol hit his stomach and what was probably a placebo warming effect was instant. "Where did you get this?"

"I saw where your mom got it from where she put some in the tea," Ben said with a shrug, refusing to look at Chris again. "I didn't think she'd mind if I borrowed it. And then I figured that, even if she did, it would be all gone anyway. So it's just win-win either way."

"How long have you been out here?" Chris asked. He was about to hand the bottle back to his friend but thought better of it, taking another gulp before doing so. He wiped it mouth on the back of his hand as his face contorted before tapping Ben on the back with the base of the bottle wordlessly and his friend twisted to retrieve the alcohol.

"Sharing smuggled liquor is _so _high school," Ben mumbled, looking down at the bottle and checking the level of it. He wasn't completely drunk yet. It was kind of a warm, numbing buzz that slowed down his mind and the melee of thoughts that were bouncing around up there, calming him. And that was what he needed right now. A little more and he might start to forget entirely how he thought that he was drowning in the Bay only hours ago…

"Look at us, the rebels, huh?"

Ben didn't answer, choosing to continue to stare out over the neighbourhood again, his heels banging lightly against the side of the house as he swung his legs absently. He set the bottle down on the ledge beside his left foot again, chewing on his lower lip. The breeze came back with a slight vengeance; blowing into his face and making his eyes water a little, tossing his hair about. "This sucks," he said, suddenly forceful, turning back to Chris. "This really sucks."

"Well, it's night, it's not that warm at all and you're precariously balanced whilst drinking something that makes you dizzy. It's not gonna be fab—"

"You know what I mean," Ben said. "Not this… _This. _Everything. The past sucks. This freaking crusade sucks. We haven't come close to saving Wyatt, we've… we've… Lost Nixa and Bridget. We have nothing to show for all of this. There was _no point._"

"We killed the games masters," Chris said quietly, swallowing and looking at the floor, curling his bare toes into the stone beneath them. "We did achieve something. They were after Wyatt. All of our research shows that there was a big bad and they were… pretty big. And bad. And now they're neither, because they're dead."

"We don't know that killing them was the answer. Especially not now that Barbas has wormed his way out of the woodwork. He is probably Wyatt's big bad. And you know what? _We can't kill him._ We never have been able to, Chris. So… so I don't know. I don't know. Oh, God. There's nothing we can do. We can't save Wyatt, we can't go back to the future because the Wyatt that we couldn't save will string us up by our thumbs. Great guy, you're brother. I don't tell him enough how much I love the whole oppressive tyrant thing he's got going."

Chris put his head in his hands. There was nothing that he could say to that. What was the answer to that? Except… "That's the bottle from the dining room sideboard, right?"

Ben nodded. "Yup. Why?"

"No reason. It just means that there's still a bottle of something in the living room."

_**Learning to Tango**_

The inside of his mouth tasted like dirt. Frowning, something wet and squishy and cold pressed against his forehead as he wrinkled it and he opened his eyes, seeing a tiny sliver of green-tinged light but nothing else. Immediately, the green light began spinning and Ben could feel his stomach lurching along with it.

Groaning, the witch tried stretching his arms, only to find that his fingers were cramped around something. He frowned again, the wet sensation back before finding the strength to sit up. But he couldn't. He rolled onto his back and completed the desired action, looking around him as his surroundings swayed and quickly summarised that he was in the Manor's garden before having to lie back down again as fast as he could. Clutched in his right hand was the neck of the empty Jack Daniels bottle. It was broken, the rest of the bottle nowhere to be seen and he uncurled his fingers, hissing as they protested. He sat up again, determined to stay vertical this time and reached up to his forehead, finding smudges of mud covering it. He rubbed his face, finding it streaked with more dirt.

Chris was lying on his face not far from him, and Ben crawled over to his friend, shaking the witch-whitelighter's shoulders gently. Chris groaned, turning his head away from Ben, who rolled his eyes and turned Chris's face back towards his. This time, Chris's eyes opened. They were bloodshot, bleary and unfocussed, but they opened.

"Where are we?"

"Well, we've got off at the end of the line. Hangoverville. Population, us," Ben exposited sarcastically, not answering Chris's question at all. A pounding headache had just asserted itself between his eyes, forcing him to wince and pinch the bridge of his nose. Looking down at his hand, he could see that it was cut, probably from the broken bottle. Actually, his ankle hurt like hell, too. Already barefoot from the previous night, the witch had no trouble looking down at it and no trouble finding it various ugly hues of black, blue and purple. What the hell had he done last night to do this to himself?

"The garden. We're in the garden?" Chris asked, taking in his surroundings. He rubbed at his temples, trying to force away the fuzziness, dizziness and pain that had taken up residence inside his skull. "How—"

"Oh, so you're awake," Piper snapped, coming into the garden. She had wrapped her robe around herself against the chill of the morning and knotted it smartly, her lips pressed into an angry line.

"Mom—"

"Don't 'Mom' me," Piper bit out, putting her hands on her hips and glaring at Chris.

"Okay, what's going on?" Ben asked fearfully. "What did we do?"

Piper barked out a short laugh. "You don't even remember? Great. Great. So you were so wasted you don't even get to feel guilty about me freaking out."

Chris groaned, rubbing his head again. "This is not good, is it?"

"Understatement of the century, mister," Piper said, rubbing at her arms as the cold bit through the terrycloth she was wearing on them. "Now come on. Get up. I am getting hypothermia out here. Get inside the house where it's more convenient for me to yell at you both for your… STUPIDITY." She turned on her heel and stormed back in through the French window into the sunroom, not looking back as she made her way through the dining room and back into the kitchen.

Chris and Ben paused before crossing the threshold of the sunroom, exchanging worried looks. Chris pulled a face, closing the door behind him with a quiet click. He glanced towards the kitchen, where no trace of his mother could be seen. He felt Ben nudge him forward and turned around to shoot a glare at his best friend, only receiving a 'What-can-you-do?' shrug and a grin.

Together, they crossed the dining room, pressing on into the kitchen before either of them could lose their nerve. Piper was sitting at the kitchen table. Her account books from P3 were spread across the table and the three chairs that she wasn't sitting on. She was sipping coffee and staring at the door, spoiling for the fight that was about to come.

"So you decided to join me?" she said tightly, slamming her coffee down onto the coaster and giving them a sickly sweet grin.

"Piper—"

"_Jumping off the balcony at three in the morning!" _she exploded disbelievingly, unable to contain herself any longer. "What on Earth were you both thinking? Apart from deciding to commit some lame, drunken suicide attempt?"

Chris winced at his mother's yelling, wishing that he could shrunk into the wall. "We did?" he tried weakly, pulling a face. He ran a hand over his eyes, shaking his head. "I'm so sorry…"

"You scared me half to death," Piper hissed, picking up her coffee mug again. She took a gulp from the mug and put it back down, her features collapsing and softening. "Look…" she sighed, shaking her head. Hair wormed itself free from the loose bun that she had twisted it up into that morning and she gently tucked it backwards. "I'm mad. And you were stupid. But… I guess that it was an acceptable type of stupid. You were in pain and you were drunk. So, well, I'm not _condoning _your actions per se, but I can't exactly condemn them either. So just… get some orange juice into you. And some painkillers and some coffee and stay far from my sight because I'll probably still be angry until at least tomorrow."

"I really am sorry, Mom," Chris murmured quietly, moving forwards to hug her. "I promise."

Piper smiled. "That's all I ask for, sweetie. Now, scram. Don't tell anyone, but I'm trying to see if I can find any business expenses to deduct and could do with the peace and quiet."

_**Learning to Tango**_

"Are we really going to do this?" Ben asked, sitting down on the back of the couch and folding his arms. "Are you telling me that this is the only way?"

"I tried to get mom and the aunts to do it before you got here, but that attempt ended in complete disaster. I _think _that this potion could work. And, if it does, then we don't need to worry about saving Wyatt. We can just go home, having achieved it."

"They're never going to go for the idea," Ben warned.

"They have to," Chris said firmly. "If they don't, then we will do everything in our power to make them go for it. Barbas has appeared on the scene, and yet it might not even _be _him that turns Wyatt. We can't stay here to keep taking the bullets for him, especially because we're going to be losing our powers to ourselves soon. We need to get back to the future and we can't do that until we've done what we came here for, and to do that—"

"We need to do this," Ben said flatly, sighing. "I just can't believe that it's come to this, that's all."

"We've got most of the ingredients for the potion," Chris said. "We're gonna have to go and get a couple of them, but we're used to scrounging around for ingredients. The hard bit is going to be convincing them."

"I guess the selling point is that the way we want to do it is not permanent," Ben mused. "They can undo it any time in the future if they want to. Just like the way it happened to them, I guess. Once the danger has passed, Wyatt can get his powers back. We'll think of something. Mostly, we've just got to make them see how this is the final, last ditch attempt to stop Wyatt growing up and going crazy and killing. They don't want that for him anymore than we do."

"Let's worry about making the potion before we worry about breaking the news," Chris said, finishing scribbling down the list of required ingredients onto a PostIt. He stuffed the square piece of paper in his pocket. "All set. Let's go."

_**Learning to Tango**_

How could such a small little bottle hold so much power? Ben turned it over in his hands slowly, absently, pushing the cork deeper into the vial with his thumb to tighten the seal. Nothing was going to escape this bottle; they were going to need every single drop to bind Wyatt's powers. He sighed, placing the bottle on the step next to him carefully and watching the sunlight shine into it, making it glow. He tore his eyes away from it and looked out over Prescott Street. It was coming evening now. The sun had begun to sink and its rays were turning cold and the shadows were lengthening. This was what Prescott Street was _meant _to look like. This was the quiet suburbia that Prescott Street was meant to be, not some rubble-strewn, scarred battlefield with only the Manor a couple of the other houses left in tact. Wyatt and his regime had torn this neighbourhood apart. At first apparently for a reason — rooting out Resistance members that had stayed huddled close to the Manor because of everything that it had used to represent — but then just for fun. Just because they could.

But… did that give them the right to deny Wyatt what was rightfully his? Did that give him and Chris permission to bind the kid's powers to make sure that none of this happened? He didn't know, and the argument had been chasing itself around inside his head over and over and over again without tiring itself out as he would have expected of it. He growled in frustration. What had they done that was judged as so horribly wrong in their past lives to deserve this? Did _anyone_ deserve this?

Although, what had Nixa done to be left gutted under the dining room table; tossed under there like she was no more than a discarded plaything? And what had Bridget done to deserve being kidnapped by a demon, have her child turned evil and then be killed by demons that wanted that child? What had he done to be tortured for days for the location of their arsenals, only to have them already in Wyatt's grasp? To be kept chained up in a cell for attempting to restart the Resistance, only for Wyatt to eventually remove all his powers and prevent him from ever being a threat?

And Chris…

What horrific and twisted things did someone have to do in their previous life to get _that_ kind of Karmic Retribution? To have to hold his dying mother in his arms? To have to try and stop his evil brother who repeatedly tried to wipe him off the face of the Earth whilst still somehow loving him?

They were all good people, they _were_, and yet they seemed to be so far out of the rules about Karma that it scared Ben a little. They were doing good things. They had always done good things, so why was the cosmos so keen to dole out such fates for them?

Someone was walking up behind him, but he didn't look up or turn around as Piper came and sat next to him on one of the front steps. He watched the light inside the vial, how it was reflected by its glass sides into the potion, making it glitter.

He caught her looking at it curiously and, although he'd promise Chris he'd wait until the three sisters were all together so that they could pitch their idea to the Charmed Ones as a whole, Ben was suddenly exhausted from all of the sneaking and creeping and the lying that he had been doing lately. "Most powerful binding potion we've ever created," he exposited, picking it up again. "I think it's the drop of Darklighter poison that helps. It was a bitch to get. I got to be the duck in the shooting gallery in the Underworld." The witch looked up at Piper then, smiling sadly at her. He shoved the vial into his pocket just as she wrapped a comforting, motherly arm around him. Ben felt a pang, remembering his own mother. It only made him more determined to save Wyatt and do it right. That way, the kid version of himself could grow up happily without a huge cloud of impending threat hanging over him.

"It's for Wyatt," Piper said.

It wasn't a question and Ben looked away to resume his blank stare. Eventually, he said heavily, "If we can't save him then we've got to stop him." He shrugged, shoving his hand in his pocket and closing it around the cool glass sides of the vial and removing it from his pocket one more. He had to touch it — he had to keep reassuring himself that the solution to everything was still there with him.

Piper sighed heavily as she tapped her fingers on her knees. "Wyatt… He could do such good…"

"And such evil."

Piper didn't have an answer for that, and the haunted look in the witch's eyes was all the confirmation she needed as to what her oldest son had done in Ben's future, so she tried to make light of the situation. "I see Chris has moved from neurotic Whitelighter to Terminator wannabe. Where is he?"

Ben didn't know where Chris was. The witch-whitelighter had said that he was going on one final errand before they talked to the sisters and had orbed away. Again. Startled by his bitterness, he was moved to shoot back immediately, "He was never neurotic. Life just got really screwed up, and I think he's starting to realise that he never knew what exactly he had until he's got next to nothing." A shadow of a smile appeared on his face. "Of course he's still got me."

Ben had never seen Chris like this. Not even when his mother was killed had Chris gone this determined-branch of nuts. Although to be fair they had a hard time with what happened with Wyatt afterwards and Chris hadn't had the _time_ to crack — he'd been starting up a large-scale resistance against Wyatt.

Orbing lights appeared in front of them at that moment and Ben looked him, knowing it could only be one person. "Speak of the devil," he muttered as Chris appeared, streaks of black ash across his face and clothes and a rather ugly looking burn on one shoulder. The huge dark circles under his eyes and his pale skin combined with his weight loss and the fact that the skin on his face was stretched too tight made him look one step away from dead. His face was set, but he took a look at the scene. Ben was twiddling the vial between two fingers and Piper looked conflicted, and he suddenly knew what had happened. His face fell. This wasn't really how this was meant to go…

"Whoa, Chris!" Ben yelped as Chris grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and dragged him to his feet.

"Let's get to work." Chris's voice was clear and angered and Piper looked at him bewildered as he yanked a none-too-complacent Ben across the threshold and telekinetically slammed the door behind them.

_**Learning to Tango**_

Chris didn't stop hauling Ben by the arm until they were in the attic. He banged that door behind him with his power as well and then sharply let go of his friend in a way that nearly unbalanced him. Chris crossed to the Book of Shadows, which was open from his last visit.

"You told," Chris said accusingly, wishing that that sentence hadn't made himself sound twelve.

"Sorry," Ben said defensively, looking hurt at the anger in Chris's face. "But I can't do this anymore. I'm sick of lying. They need to be told the truth. The sooner we start telling them what really went on in the future, fuck the consequences, the sooner they'll be on our side for the binding of Wyatt's powers."

"Maybe you're right…" Chris said distractedly, running a hand through his hair. "I can't even tell if _I'm _right anymore." He turned around. The sun was really fading now and the room was being absorbed by twilight. He walked over to the window and looked out. The horizon was splashed with purples and oranges as the sun faded, for practically as far as the eye could see.

"Exactly," Ben said quietly. "The sooner we tell them all about this, the sooner that they'll be willing to do it."

"It's getting dark," Chris said absently, wrapping his arms around himself.

"It's called night, buddy," Ben said, only a hint of amusement in his voice. He groaned and rubbed at his eyes and forehead, tilting his head backwards to stare at the ceiling.

Piper came in the door, leaning against the doorjamb. She was carrying Wyatt on her hip. He was playing with her necklace, and she had to keep untangling his fingers while she was talking. "Paige just got home," she said quietly. "I called Phoebe and said that we needed an urgent meeting. She's on her way. I'm not going to promise anything to you two but… we will talk about binding his powers." She gestured to Wyatt with her head as she did so. "If you can't see any other option then we have to do this, if only to save a lot of people. This is going to sound stupid but… will you two watch him? I don't want him to be there while we're discussing his entire future."

"Sure," Ben said, holding out his arms for the kid. Wyatt turned away from Piper slightly, still keeping a death grip on her necklace, but stretched another arm out to Ben expectantly, waving around the toy train that he had clutched in his other fist.

Piper hesitated and sighed. "This is awkward, because it sounds like I don't trust you, and it's not that, it's just…"

Ben held out the potion to her immediately. "You _don't_ trust us. And that's okay. I'm not sure that I'd trust us either." He took Wyatt from Piper, slowly prising the kid's fingers off Piper's necklace. "Hey, you. Whatcha got there?" Wyatt held out his train and Ben smiled, carrying Wyatt over to the playpen in the middle of the room. "Are you gonna play with it for a while in there?"

"Ben, no. Don't think of it like that. It's more…" But she struggled to find the words. There was a tiny, very tiny, niggling part of her brain that was telling her that they were both so desperate to save the future that they would do anything for it, no matter what the cost. It was only a small part, and the majority of her knew that they would never do anything this major or reckless without at least her consent but… the doubt was there. And that was enough. "This… this could take a while," Piper said a little shakily, her eyes misting slightly as she looked at her son. She crossed the room to her son and stroked his blond hair before kissing him on the forehead. "Be good sweetie." She left the room quickly, without looking back, the potion curled in her hand.

"Do you think that they're going to do it?" Ben asked, leaning into the playpen and running Wyatt's train around the bottom.

Chris shrugged, leaning forward on his forearms on the Book's pages. "I don't know. But I hope so. If they don't, then we don't have a Plan C. Except sit around here and be royally screwed."

"This _is _the right thing to do, isn't it?" Ben asked, straightening up. "This is the right thing to do, and not the selfish, cop out thing to do?"

Chris snorted, looking down at the Book of Shadows. He plucked moodily at a page. "Recently, I've not exactly been the shining example of morals that I should have been. Why are you asking me?"

"Because, if I keep asking myself, I'll go crazy," Ben shot back. "And that won't be pretty."

"Binding — and only binding, remember, this isn't stripping — Wyatt's powers will save lives. I can't see what's selfish about that."

"Really?" Ben asked sceptically, sitting back down on the back of the couch again.

Chris slammed the Book closed sourly. "No. Okay? Is that what you want to here? No, this is _so _the selfish way to do things, no matter how many selfless examples I sugar coat it with. We're only doing this so we can get home to a good future. We're only doing this so that Nixa and Bridget… Selfish reasons. Very selfish reasons. But—"

A loose floorboard squeaked. Ben immediately jumped up from his perch, slowly and cautiously making his way towards the centre of the room and Wyatt's playpen. Chris's eyes narrowed and he slipped around the pedestal holding the book, green irises darting around the room. The prolonged period of silence deafened both of them, their hammering hearts the only audible sounds that they could hear. They were just about to dismiss the noise when they heard it again, and again.

Ben whipped around, circling and surveying the apparently empty room. "Chris, get Wyatt out of here," he said tensely. "I'll be right behind you."

Chris strode into the middle of the room and bent to pick up Wyatt and orb out with him, when the invisible presence backhanded him, sending him flying backwards into a table. He smashed through it and crashed to the floor, winded. Ben stepped forwards but was telekinetically thrown into the wall. He crashed to the floor too, just as Chris was scrambling up.

Over the playpen, Gideon suddenly appeared. He looked over at them and sneered, raising a warning hand as Ben got to his feet and stepped forward. The witch flicked out his wrists, sending a burst of fire to explode on the Elder's chest. Gideon was blasted from his feet and slammed into a bookcase. Ben and Chris advanced on him.

"_Gideon?" _Chris stuttered disbelievingly. "_You? _An _Elder?_ Why?"

"The Greater Good," Gideon sneered, reaching inside his robe and conjuring his dagger. "Now stay out of the way of this. Don't think I won't sacrifice both of you in a heartbeat."

"We're binding Wyatt's powers," Ben said. "I assume that you've probably been doing a lot of eavesdropping, so surely you should know that?"

Chris took a couple of steps backwards, needing a little room to breathe and process. Gideon. This was Gideon. The Gideon that had captured and tortured him, the Gideon that he had assumed was a shape-shifting demon…

"Wyatt, danger," Chris bit out, watching as his brother erected his blue shield. There was no way that Gideon was going to get to Wyatt. Not after he had made so many mistakes already concerning the Elder.

Gideon suddenly shimmered slightly and disappeared from sight. Ben released another blast at the bookcase instinctively, but it didn't hit anything but books and wood. The bookcase blew apart, raining burning wood and paper across the room. Cursing, Ben ran towards the playpen just as Wyatt's shield began to stutter, being drawn into an invisible point that he guessed was Gideon's dagger. He reached down towards the failing shield, intending to grab Wyatt, when Gideon suddenly uncloaked and rammed the dagger into his stomach.

Ben stiffened, gaping, as Gideon twisted the athame and wrenched it out. The witch staggered and fell backwards onto the floor, clutching at the wound in his stomach. Gideon turned back to Wyatt's playpen, stabbing the shield with the athame and managing to draw the bubble into it, rendering it useless.

"NO!" Chris yelled, flinging out an arm and snatching the dagger from Gideon, ramming it through the Elder's shoulder. He snatched it again with his telekinesis, stabbing Gideon in the stomach and chest with it, seeing only red hot rage.

Eventually, the athame clattered to the floor. The Charmed Ones chose that moment to enter the room, gaping at the gory, bouncing knife on the rug and at Gideon starting to go up in flames.

Piper shrieked, putting a hand to her mouth and staggering backwards at the sight. As Gideon began to write in the pillar of fire, Paige's eyes widened and Phoebe clutched at the doorframe, wishing that she could close her ears to the wailing screams of the dying Elder. His face suddenly began to blister and he exploded outwards, the fire whooshing up to the ceiling and disappearing with him.

Chris was left standing behind Gideon, his face set in a pained, angry expression as the smoke cleared. He looked down at Ben on the carpet and his face drained of all colour. He swiftly crossed the room and knelt down next to his friend. He shrugged out of his jacket and folded it into a vague pad, pressing it to Ben's abdomen. "It's okay. You're going to be okay… You're fine."

Piper strode across the room, picking up Wyatt from his playpen. The toddler wasn't even crying, but he was clutching his train in his fist again and holding it out to Ben almost expectantly. Piper gently covered his face and hugged him tightly to her chest and shoulder, spiriting him out of the room as fast as she could. There was no way that she was going to allow him to see anymore oft his than he had to.

Chris grabbed Ben's wrist, searching for a pulse. It was thumping away wildly, but his friend's hand was cold and trembling. Chris lifted the corner of his jacket to see the wound better, but found that the pressure that he was applying wasn't necessarily. For the size of the wound, there was very little blood coming out, which was not good. If there was little bleeding on the outside it just meant that Ben was bleeding heavily on the inside.

Chris gritted his teeth as Ben's breathing grew shallower. "LEO! DAD? LEO, please!"

"C-Chris?" Ben gasped, turning to face his friend.

"It's okay. Leo's coming."

"Th-this isn't your f-fault. None of this is your fault. You couldn't h-have done anything-g…" Ben gasped in pain has Chris pressed harder on the wound, hoping to try and stem the blood inside as well as out somehow.

"You're fine…" Chris repeated, hoping that his mantra would work and somehow Ben would come out of this alive. No. His mantra _had _to work and Ben _would _come out of this alive. There was no other option available to him.

"What happened?" Phoebe asked, stepping in to the attic. She grimaced, side-stepping the spot where Gideon had died. "Did you just kill Gideon?"

"He was evil," Chris told her.

One look into his eyes showed Phoebe that Chris was pouring every ounce of conviction into his words but she still couldn't grasp what had gone on. "Evil? Gideon? Are you sure?"

"He tried to kill Wyatt!" Chris snapped, his eyes blazing. "Is that proof enough for you, Phoebe? He tried to kill Wyatt and now he's stabbed Ben. Should I have waited until he started making fur coats out of puppies or are we all set on the concept? "

"Chris—"

"Don't," Chris snapped. "Just don't. Don't question me, don't question my motives. If you have to stand there do something to help me. LEO! DAD! PLEASE, DAD!"

"Th-this is quite ironic, huh? We finally find the solution and someone i-introduces a blade to a couple of my v-vital organs? Actually… this is less i-ironic than it is a biweekly occurrence…" He laughed weakly, raising a fist into his mouth to cough into it, wincing at the strain it took in his abdomen.

"Leo!" Chris yelled at the ceiling. "Goddamn it Dad, get down here NOW!"

Orbing lights appeared in the middle of the room, swirling into a human form. Chris jumped up, snagging a barely-formed wrist. Leo cried out in shock and stumbled forwards, still trailing orbs.

"Dad, heal," Chris bit out desperately, peeling his jacket off Ben's wound. Blood was slowly spreading through Ben's green hoodie, staining the fabric a brown.

"How… What's going on?" Leo asked, kneeling down. His brow furrowed, his eyes widened when he saw the extent of Ben's wounds and his hands lit up immediately. He placed them over Ben's stomach, passing them over the gaping hole, but nothing happened.

"Dad, what's going on? What's happening? Why can't you heal him?"

"B-because fate's a tricky f-fucker," Ben snorted, spraying a little blood from his nose onto his upper lip. "Do you think you could g-grab me a couple of Band Aids or something? I th-think I'm making a mess of the r-rug…"

"Why isn't it working!" Chris demanded again, grabbing his father's wrists and squeezing them hard. "What are you doing wrong?" He was punctuating his words by shaking Leo's hands. Leo looked up, right into his son's green eyes, wild with worry.

"I don't know… What happened? Who did this?"

"Gideon," Chris spat, his face turning into a thundercloud as he flicked his eyes over to the pile of ash Gideon has become. "Slimy bastard. After all of that, after us _trusting him…_" His words choked in his throat and died and he got up, striding across the attic and running a hand through his hair, shaking his head disbelievingly. "This… _How? _How could this have happened?" He spun on his heel. Leo was helping Ben to sit up. The witch's face was contorted with pain. Paige had got a tumbler of water from somewhere and was slowly allowing him to take small sips from the glass.

Leo's eyes fell of the bloody dagger. The handle was scorched by the fierce heat of the inferno that had consumed Gideon, and the blade was bent. The elder picked it up and brought it close to his eye to examine in, turning it over and over in his hands. He let it fall to his side. "Chris… This is an enchanted dagger. Gideon did this and only he can undo it."

It felt like the world was rushing backwards at high speed. It felt like Chris was standing in the sand at the edge of the beach and the waves were rushing back into the sea. He felt as if he was careering backwards at a high speed, although in reality he was standing stock still, his face drained of colour. His mouth went dry. "What?" he half-gasped, paling even more. "No, that's… No. There's got to be some other way to fix this. That can't be… No…" He groped his way over to the couch and sat down, staring at the floorboards.

"What… Where's Gideon, Chris?" Leo asked, fear tingeing his voice. He opened his palm and found it smeared with thick grey ash that had rubbed off the hilt of the athame, and dropped it to the floorboard hurriedly. His eyes alighted on Gideon's cremains. "Chris. Please, Chris, tell me you didn't…"

"He was the one! He was the one that turned Wyatt!" Chris yelled savagely, leaping from the couch. "He was going to hurt Wyatt. Then he stabbed Ben and I just… I don't know. I never thought…" The rushing feeling was back again, this time accompanied by a roaring in his ears which he could only barely hear his heart over. He'd… The person that could save Ben — the _only _person that could save Ben — he had killed. He'd killed Gideon and that… that had killed Ben.

"D-does anyone want to stick they're finger in th-this thing?" Ben asked shakily, pushing away Paige's water weakly and shaking his head. "You know, to stop the horrendous flow of blood and s-such?" Beads of sweat were beginning to gather all over his face, and one was already rolling down the side of his head, disappearing sneakily under his chin. His breathing became more laboured and he stopped for nearly an entire minute before gasping for air once more. "You know, I c-can't believe an _Elder _is going to kill me. After s-surviving The Source and then Wyatt, then Wyatt the Source, hell, I even m-managed to survive _Bridget, _it's a fricking Elder th-that manages it? Jeez. It couldn't have b-been a dragon or something? This is not a g-glorious way to go out, you know?"

"Dragons are extinct," Chris replied, trying to swallow the tears that were welling in his eyes. "Duh."

"Oh, and what was the S-source supposed to b-be, huh? Just vacationing in Hawaii?" Ben shot back, coughing up a light mist of blood. He looked at his hand and grimaced, wiping it on his jeans and groaning, closing his eyes.

"I've called an ambulance," Piper announced, returning to the attic and flinging the cordless in her hand down onto the armchair nearest the door. "They're on their way. Just hang in there for us okay, Ben? I'm not losing another person around here."

"I'm so-sorry about the rug…" the witch murmured, turning his head to face Piper. His eyes were unfocused and glassy, she noted, and she wrapped her arms around herself. She suddenly knew, right then and there, that Ben wasn't going to make it until the ambulance came.

"Oh, sweetie, you don't need to worry about that. Seriously. I mean, it was a little threadbare anyway…"

"I'll st-stain it…" he insisted, shaking his head. "Sorry…" He closed his eyes again, his head lolling limply to the side.

"Ben," Piper called demandingly, panic pitching her voice high. "Ben, stay awake. Come on."

"There's an ambulance coming," Phoebe soothed gently, although she was trapping her bottom lip between her teeth so tightly to force herself to refrain from crying that she could taste copper. "You're gonna be fine. Then Piper will make you scrub the rug. So you better be fine."

"You won't get my blood out, Piper," Ben repeated, shaking his head from side to side limply and looking off into the distance. "It just never shifts… I'm sorry that I'm bleeding on your rug." He had stopped stuttering now. Instead, he had begun to slur his words and leave larger and larger gaps between them. They had started to tail off and get quieter and quieter until he was only whispering.

"The rug doesn't matter. I don't care about it," Piper told the young witch firmly, finally giving in and allowing tears to begin to roll down her face. "Stop worrying about it," she managed to allow to tumble out between sobs. "Just stop…" She ran a hand over her damp face, feeling the sticky tears there. Her hairs became ensnared in the trails left by her tears so she scraped it harshly back behind her ears. As soon as Piper started crying, Paige and Phoebe lost it too. The witch-whitelighter moved over to her sister, wrapping an arm around her back and resting one hand protectively on Piper's stomach, whilst Phoebe took the other side, leaning into Piper's shoulder as she finally allowed herself to cry freely.

"See you in the f-future, Chris," Ben said, his voice barely louder than the settling of crisp autumn leaves. "Let's hope we've made it a good one, huh?"

"Goodbye? You're telling me goodbye? Hell, no," Chris said vehemently, stepping back forward. He crouched down next to Ben and seized the witch's hand. "No. This is not happening. Goodbye is _not _an option, dammit, Ben. You're going to stay here and you're going to—" He dug his nails into his palm as Ben's hand became too insubstantial for him to grasp. "No. NO!" Ben was fading rapidly, nothingness eating up his limbs and then his torso. You could almost hear the atoms sighing as they were released from each other and allowed to spread apart and roam. "Ben! What do you think you're doing?" Like a gently, erasing wave the invisibility continued to spread, allowing them to glimpse through Ben at the boarded floor beneath before the witch's body finally succumbed to it. The last thing to fade was the small smile that Ben had pulled. A tiny impression of it seemed to hover in the air before just breaking up and leaving the rug on witch he had lain not seconds before completely empty.

* * *

**If there's anyone left reading this -- and let's face it, there probably isn't and that is entirely my fault -- then I apolgise sincerely. But I had to get this chapter just right, as it was so important. It's the penultimate chapter, I think, so one more to go, and it sets up everything that's going to happen to end this.**

**Yes, end. You heard that right. Heh.**

**Thanks for sticking with me (if you have),**

**_Twisted Flame._**

**P.S. I really amgoing tobefearing for my life at every turn for this chapter, aren't I? Huh. Crap.**


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